


Parisian Holiday

by fkaps (orphan_account)



Series: lucases and eliotts no. 1 - infinity [1]
Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Eliott is 23, Eliott is a little shameless, Internalized Homophobia, Lucas is 21, Lucas is a little nervous, M/M, Real life accuracy? Idk her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2019-12-07 10:00:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18233369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/fkaps
Summary: Eliott, the jaded photographer with no principles and big dreams, is tasked by his dodgy employer to catch Lucas, Prince of Monaco, in the midst of something scandalous enough to catapult him front page center of every news media outlet in France.  Lucas, on the Paris stop of his European tour, is the closeted prince afraid of the dark, and after crossing paths with Eliott, maybe even himself.Alternatively, a 'Roman Holiday' AU





	1. day one

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a part of my series of oneshots in zenith. Except it had a mind of its own and I decided to split it up into a few parts. Roman Holiday is one of my favourite movies, and writing this was such a nice break in between final exams and assignments. This show is the only thing keeping me sane as I push forward for the next month or so. This is my farewell to Elu, and I'm so ready to be destroyed by Imane's season just like Sana's. Any comments and criticism are nuch appreciated.
> 
> Edit june/20 2019: thank you so much for all your love and attention towards this story. It's unedited for the most part, and i don't plan on touching it anytime soon, so if some of it feels rough that's why hahaha.

_"do you choose who you fall in love with?"_

* * *

Now:

"Which of the cities visited did Your Highness enjoy the most?"

* * *

Then:

**Dad**

Behave yourself Lucas

We're all counting on you to make a good impression  
10:04

 

 _Thanks Dad,_ Lucas thinksto himself bitterly _,_ _I'll let you know when I land safely. Love you too._ He holds off responding, half spite and half drooping eyelids as he slumped into the seat of the limo leaving the airport. 

It was his own fault really.

Tensions were already high on the political scene back home. Lucas's father, the acting monarch, divorcing his ailing mother and marrying a woman half his age not one week after the fact had caused a wave of disapproval among the public. Coupled with the general disdain towards the monarchy and calls for a shift to a democratic reign, the royal family had been up to its metaphorical knees in bad sentiment. So when the crown prince, sole heir to the throne and his father's misdeeds, was caught on camera kissing a boy at a campus party, there was a series of rushed phone calls and absurd amounts of money dispersed to keep an imminent scandal from exploding. 

The 'troubled child' moniker that had followed him his whole life wasn't something he took seriously until that moment. Sure, he liked the occasional party, smoked a joint here and there, got a little carried away with his select group of approved friends at upscale bars. But he was also a teenager, now young adult. With all parts of his life otherwise being dictated by society or his family, he figured it wouldn't be a big deal so long as he kept it low key. How was he supposed to know that his first kiss, the first kiss where he actually felt something besides disgust or emptiness, was a setup by one of his classmates in an effort to extort the maximum amount of money possible from the highest bidder?

Lucas was well aware of his sexuality. He knew what he liked, and it wasn't long legs or soft voices. It was the veins on the arms of his male tutors when he was a teenager, the lilt of a smile from the handsome middle aged butler with a wife and two kids, and it was the flirtatious looks from his classmate, someone he wasn't particularly close with, but the first one to look at him with a hunger in his eyes that he could see himself reciprocating. He went for it, thinking that it would be a one time fling, something to get out of his system. After all, he had made up his mind to grit his teeth and repress, repress, repress for the rest of his life. Until one day he couldn't. And ultimately, that landed him here. On a charity tour equal parts distraction from his father's negative reputation and punishment for the remaining bit of his still left intact. 

It hurt. Lucas knew he wasn't his father's favourite, even if you would think by default, it had to be the case. He was never the perfect child, but he also didn't think that it would be a kiss that would get him essentially banished from the country by his dad. And he wasn't stupid. He knew he was being used as a political pawn in a much bigger game. 'Oh look at the future of our country!', 'A handsome prince with morals', "The Monarchs are Alright', headlines and comments that were bound to cover the internet and newspapers upon his undertaking of the tour had already started to surface at his first stop in Italy, where he bid 'Ciao' to the homeless as he dished out soup kitchen fare in the afternoon, and dined lavishly with Mattarella and other notable politicians in the evening. 

Bullshit, he thought. Complete and utter bullshit.

It was a farce anyone could see through. Lucas knew that the slightest hint of one small misgiving or misstep would result in him automatically being deemed hypocritical and insincere. Yet, as of now, they ate it up. The same news outlets that chewed him out for his excessive partying, photographed him with his latest flavour of the week (their words not his, used to describe whatever girl he tried to convince himself he was attracted to at that period in time), and speculated the source of his behaviour, whether it be his crazy mother, indifferent father, or simply his supposed big ego, were the same ones showering praise towards his 'selfishness' and 'leadership qualities'. It was a game he'd played repeatedly, throughout his formative years and now as an adult. One he was scarily used to and cycled through mechanically, unfeeling and numb. 

"You have a party tonight at the embassy," Jules, the attendant (read: glorified babysitter) assigned by his dad to him for this trip, interrupted his train of thoughts, "There will be press, as well as the president and his family." 

"I'll make sure to be on my best behaviour." Lucas replied, pinching the bridge of his nose and feeling a headache coming on. He hadn't been sleeping well again, and the signs of a fast approaching headache were beginning to surface.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness."

"Not your fault Jules." 

* * *

  _mercredi_ 18:53

Lucas sits, perched on the edge of his seat as if waiting for the first opportunity to bolt will allow it to present itself if he prepares hard enough. He doesn't know why his father bothered to send him here, as if the President of France could teach him how to lead a country within the span of the world's most boring dinner party. With the main course about to be served, he can't even make up some random excuse to get the hell away from the old politicians and their stuffy spouses. How utterly surprising that no one his age had thought to attend. 

Just one hour, he thinks. One more hour of this until he can excuse himself by claiming fatigue without being considered a brat and spend the rest of the night not sleeping as usual, dedicating it to Netflix and mental preparation for the next day's events. One of the politicians has started talking at the table collectively, bragging about his kids and interrupting any of the others who dared to boast about their own. He's not someone with murderous tendencies, but this conversation certainly makes him understand why they might come about.

"More wine?" a voice chimes in, as if sensing what Lucas was thinking, and the surrounding eyes around him wait to see what he'll do. He will reject politely, sip on the remnants of the liquid remaining in the glass so that he can return it to the waiter, knowing that accepting more than his preliminary serving will only fuel some form of rumour claiming his struggle with alcoholism. 

Instead he stills. And chokes. 

"Your Highness!" Jules is at his aid immediately, "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he manages to splutter out, "I'm good." he repeats, realizing the reason for his episode is still standing, bottle held tightly between two hands and concerned expression on his face.

He looks handsome even when he's frowning, Lucas thinks in awe. He stares at the waiter, bright blue eyes that reflect his own and brow knitted together. He's tall, Lucas notes immediately, towering over Jules and himself, but his posture remains somewhat lacking to the trained eye. It made him look more approachable, until Lucas looked at his face again and feels his jaw drop once more. _Get it together_ , he thinks to himself. 

"Shi-" the angel starts, "I mean, are you okay," he amends, "Your highness?"

"Fine!" Lucas squeaks out embarrassingly, coughing before repeating in a lower voice, "Fine. It's fine." he settles back into his seat, stealing glances at the waiter, who resumed his work and headed back towards the kitchen, Lucas's glass and attention in tow. 

Dinner passes, sans excitement save for the one incident that Lucas clearly hallucinated as the waiter, who was obviously a male model that got lost on his way to Paris Fashion Week, had yet to make another appearance following the ordeal. 

Then, in the middle of mille feuille and tea, he sees the waiter make his way outside through a side exit near the kitchen. 

Lucas doesn't know what propels him, the same guy who thinks twice about the colour of socks he wears lest someone finds it in themselves to take offence, to stand up abruptly. He glances towards a silent Jules, who looks apprehensive about whatever he was going to ask. 

"I need some air." Lucas says in a hushed voice. Jules sighs in relief, expecting something a lot more outlandish.

"Door to the right," Jules motions to the door at the head of the room, "Try not to be gone too long." Lucas nods gratefully, excusing himself from the table and walking out, taking care to tread lightly and not bust out of there as fast as possible like he wanted to. Except, he immediately gravitates towards the door he saw the waiter walk outside of, a smaller exit intended for the service staff at the venue. Rounding the corner, he sees the waiter leaning against the wall, formal jacket missing and white button down slightly undone at the top. 

Lucas stands in silence for a moment, watching the subtle drags he takes, pausing to type out something on his phone, lips pursed around the cigarette (joint?) as both hands remain occupied in typing. He looks up suddenly, startling Lucas out of his gaze who starts blushing a deep red. The other man pretends not to notice, instead pocketing his phone and taking the object out of his mouth, grinning at Lucas.

"You smoke?" he asks, raising one eyebrow and standing up to his full height.  Lucas pauses for a second, looking back and forth out of habit, before nodding in what he hopes isn't too desperately. He walks over to where Lucas stands, eventually passing the joint to the younger ones hand as it shakes from the cool summer night and definitely not nerves.

The man leans on the wall again, this time directly next to Lucas who stands unsure, joint hanging from his fingers. He's not sure why this was proving to be so difficult.

"Don't worry about," the other says, sensing his trepidation, "No one's coming out right now. Only reason I am is to take the break I didn't take earlier."

Reassured and finally following suit, Lucas props himself adjacent to the waiter and takes a swift breath in and out, careful not to overdo it lest it bite him in the ass after. 

"Eliott." the man introduces himself, accepting the joint as Lucas passes it back. Something about the way Eliott grabs the joint, fingers lingering on his own as he places it in his mouth and takes a long drag makes Lucas still. Eliott hollows out his cheeks, staring at Lucas intently the entire time, right after Lucas had the same joint against lips mere seconds ago. It's enough to make him forget to breathe. But he still chokes out a response.

"Lucas." he replies, a small smile starting to form in response to Eliott's own.

"I know," Eliott smirks, "Your Highness." he adds playfully. Lucas almost gapes. Almost. Thank god he's learned to restrain his emotions overtime. 

"You acted like you didn't." 

"Call it playing the long game."

"What?" Lucas says confusedly. The joint's made it back to his hands. This time he takes a longer drag, letting it coat his lungs and swallow him whole. He feels at peace.

"Never mind," Eliott says, adding on, "How do you like Paris?"

"It's nice." Lucas states plainly, "Quite big." he supplements.

"That's it?"

"Yeah well," Lucas breathes out, "Not exactly here to sight see." Eliott gives him a look, holding out his hand to take back the joint. He pauses, takes another drag, blowing the smoke out leisurely. Then, suddenly,

"Want me to show you around?" Lucas stares at him, not entirely sure if he heard correctly. 

"Let's go, Lucas?" Eliott repeats. And he has no idea why, maybe it's the glint in Eliott's eyes, the way he says his name, or the smile tugging at the corner of his lips that Lucas can feel his own reciprocating in kind, but he nods. 

"Yeah," Lucas breathes out, "Yeah." Eliott looks surprised at his immediate response. He feels his stomach sink. It was the first time he felt at ease hanging out with someone besides Yann, Baz, and Arthur. Maybe Eliott's weirded out by this random guy who took less than two seconds to agree on an impromptu tour led by an essential stranger. Fuck.

Lucas's internal monologue is cut short when Eliott smiles, full on teeth and dimples displayed. 

"Come," he grabs Lucas's arm, "This way." Eliott leads the duo towards a pair of bikes, lined up on the rack next to the garbage dump with locks placed around them.

"That one's mine," Eliott says, twisting the combination before the lock clicks open, "The other's is a friend. He won't mind if we borrow it for a night." 

"On this?" Lucas says incredulously as Eliott stands up, brushing the dust off his pants, "You want me to get on this?"

"Yeah?" Eliott responds quizzically, "Don't tell me you don't know how to ride?" 

"Of course I do!" 

"Sorry, didn't think it was part of How to be a Prince 101's curriculum." 

"Funny."

"Sorry, I'm sorry!"

Lucas hesitates. It's almost 23:00.

"Really, I'm sorry."

"No," Lucas sighs, "It's not that."

"Then?"

"I really shouldn't go," Lucas said, running his fingertips across the seat of the bike, "They expect me back at the hotel by 23:00."

"Don't tell me you have a curfew?" Eliott sighed at Lucas's silence, "Come on, Your Highness. Who's stopping you right now?" he gestured with his hands, arms spread out wide "The night is young, so are we. What's wrong with getting in a little bit of trouble?" 

Lucas doesn't know why, but he trusts him. And so,

"Okay," Lucas relents, "Okay."

"Lead the way."

* * *

 

When Eliott's dodgy boss told him he had been tasked with tailing Lucas Lallemant, heir to Monacan throne, for the tabloid that would offer the best price, he figured it wouldn't be too hard. A friend of a friend hooked him up with a one time catering job at the president's party, knowing the guest list included a certain someone with an attitude problem. His claim of being strapped for cash was partially true and easily believable. Couple of drinks, paired with a little temptation and he'd have his scoop by the end of the night. 

He just didn't count on the previously media dubbed royal pain in the ass now turned golden successor of the throne to be so fucking beautiful.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I clearly don't know much about Monaco-France relations, and my knowledge of the Monacan monarchy is essentially nonexistent. Please take anything/everything related to real life with a grain of salt. I did a little research on LGBT rights in Monaco and while hate crimes are prohibited, there's still much left to be desired regarding same sex marriage laws and rights for couples. I do not claim to know details related to the treatment of individuals falling under the LGBT spectrum in Monaco, so again some creative liberty has been taken with this regard.
> 
> I'm on tumblr if u want to talk suggestions or criticisms :)  
> http://fkapsincaps.tumblr.com


	2. day one part ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i'm???  
> thank you for all the love. your comments mean the world to me  
> i'm sorry for any errors, i will read this over later this week and amend some of it  
> the route Eliott and Lucas are taking during this whole biking adventure is loosely based on the first option on this website  
> https://en.parisinfo.com/what-to-see-in-paris/info/guides/paris-cycling-exploring  
> basic i know!! also i've never been to paris so sorry in advance if the geography makes zero sense

_ "You're surprising. I like surprising people." _

* * *

 

It wasn't supposed to be like this, Eliott would swear every time he actually thought about what he was doing. This was just temporary, a job to tide him over until he found his true calling. 

Following graduation, he found himself constantly jumping, one job to the next. From barista to studio assistant, he'd tried everything, never sticking around long enough to make friends or establish anything remotely resembling a career.

He was bored. He hated routine, and if his employment history was anything to go by, he hadn't found something that he liked, let alone loved, that made mundanity worth staying for. 

He'd been working for his current boss for a few months now, appreciating the freedom the job gave him, even if he despised the reasons for it existing. If he was a more decent person, maybe it would bother him that the assignments he got tasked with would frequently end up with their respective subjects' downfall. 

Eliott wasn't a bad person, or at least that's what he told himself. This was just the best possible solution for his current situation. So, when his boss approached him with an opportunity to expose Lucas Lallemant, the royal brat turned apple of the media's eye, he treated it like any other job he'd been assigned in the past. Something he didn't feel particularly bad about, especially when he took into consideration the rumours that had spread in his social circles surrounding the prince's attitude problems and overall unpleasantness. 

So he went to the party, donning the waiter uniform the catering company had provided him with earlier that night. He trained his eyes on his target as soon as he entered, momentarily taken aback by the blue of his eyes and the nervous way he carried himself, so uncharacteristic of what Eliott had told himself to expect. His phone chimed with an alert, causing him to look away from Lucas who had yet to notice Eliott's presence.

* * *

  **Boss Man**

So how's it going  
18:00

Nothing yet  
18:31

Keep me updated  
18:32

* * *

He sighed. 

That's it. Clearly the lurk around until he was noticed method wasn't working. Changing his strategy, Eliott approached Lucas directly. He startles a bit, when Lucas looks at him, curiosity lacing the embarrassment tinting his cheeks pink. Eliott eventually catches himself, stepping away from the scene, unsure if his plan to get the prince's attention worked, but hopeful nonetheless.

Walking out during his self imposed break, he takes out the joint from his back pocket, lighting it and taking a drag, pulling out his phone with one hand as he thumbs at the hastily rolled stick with the other.

He hears the footsteps before he sees him, smirking as he texts his boss back.

* * *

  **Boss Man**

Got him  
18:53

* * *

_"Lead the way."_

Sometimes, Lucas surprises even himself with his idiocy.

He's not sure what propelled him to accept an invitation from a complete stranger to explore an unfamiliar city. This guy, as handsome, intriguing and enchanting as he was, was still someone he had known for a total of half an hour and half a joint before he was agreeing to spend the rest of the night with him.

Jules would probably be getting nervous by now, wondering where Lucas was after hastily leaving the dining hall. He types out a quick text, informing his glorified babysitter of his whereabouts, excluding some details that were better off left out. Slipping it in his back pocket, he gets on the bike parked next to Eliott's, waiting for the other man to lead the way.

"Ready?" 

"Yeah."

"Alright," Eliott says, "Let's go."

 

And they're off. Slowly at first. Lucas can't remember the last time he rode a bike, can't recall the last time he didn't have a driver to take him where he needed to go. It's clumsy, he's fumbling along the curved stone path, uneven and unkempt, bumping him along until wheels touch the flat, smooth concrete of the street. It's then when Lucas finds his rhythm, stops thinking, and just pedals.

It's exhilarating. The summer wind is hot as it hits his cheeks, the suit jacket that he regrets not discarding, despite the price tag it came with, sticking uncomfortably around his torso. He frees up one hand, opening buttons, breeze blowing the sides of the garment back and fresh air cooling him down despite its warm temperature. Lucas is sweaty and fatigued already. Yet, even as his hair is tousled and his clammy hands grip the plastic of the bike's handlebars, he realizes he's never felt more alive. Not for awhile, maybe not ever. 

Eliott glances back at him periodically, ensuring they never stray too far from one another as they bike haphazardly through the green of the Bois de Boulogne, navigating carefully past the occasional pedestrian they come across. Lucas pushes on, steadily building up speed, tiredness leaving his body, filled instead with a rush of energy that lets him keep up with Eliott, riding with the confidence of a person who's frequented the route often. 

Eventually, the calm of the park is replaced with city lights, glittering against the night sky and casting shadows along the cobble stone streets. They pass by the Eiffel Tower, Lucas growing self conscious at the number of tourists making an appearance. As if Eliott can sense his discomfort, he slows his pace, mouthing a silent 'No one cares' to Lucas, the latter glancing around and realizing no one was paying attention, too absorbed in their own endeavors to care about two boys on bicycles racing down the busy road seemingly never ending and leading to nowhere in particular. 

After what seems like forever, Eliott stops at the foot of a bridge, one Lucas recognizes from the locks scattered across its expanse. 

"You know where we are." Eliott states, registering the recognition on Lucas's face, not giving any indication of tiredness even after riding for kilometres on end.

"It's the Pont des Arts," Lucas huffs, not able to conceal his shortness of breath, "Right? I've only seen it in pictures, though." 

"What gave it away?" Eliott asks jokingly. Lucas lets out an airy laugh, still winded but heartbeat slowly returning to normal. 

"I'm just very well versed in bridges," Lucas jokes back, surprising himself.

"Really?" Eliott says, arching one brow, trying hard to keep his composure.

"Didn't you know? It's the first thing they teach you in How to be a Prince 101." Lucas retorts in reference to the older man's jab earlier that night. Eliott bursts out laughing, causing Lucas to grin back. They stand there, unsure of whether to continue on their way. Eliott glances around, perking up when his eyes land on a kiosk set up near the bridge. Laying his bike down on the ground, he jogs over in the direction of the crowded stall. 

"Hold on," he calls out, "I'll be right back!" returning in less than a minute with a lock, extracting a marker from his pants' pocket. 

"A l-lock?" Lucas stutters, clearing his throat before speaking up, louder this time, "Isn't that something lovers do?"

Eliott just grins, handing Lucas the marker. 

"It can mean whatever you want it to mean," he says, almost flirtatiously, turning around dramatically so he's faced away from him, "You know how it works right?" Lucas nods absentmindedly, before realizing Eliott can't see him and mumbling a hushed 'Yeah'. He uncaps the marker, unable to settle on what to write, eventually deciding on his name and the date. Basic, but it would do. 

"Okay, done." Eliott peers over his shoulder, stretching his hand out to take the lock and marker back. 

"Give it to me," he waited for Lucas to pass the lock back, "I won't look at what you wrote." Lucas hands it over, written side down. To his surprise, Eliott scrawls his own message on the other side, the whole time cautious of accidentally catching a glimpse of what the other man wrote.

"Done." Eliott says satisfied, swiftly securing the lock in a block of empty space waiting to be filled on the bridge.

Lucas's tiredness must have been more apparent than it was earlier on, because Eliott suddenly suggests they make a rest stop. Lucas, hoping he doesn't sound too relieved, agrees. They lean their bikes against a pole conveniently located outside a small cafe, following Eliott's reassurances that they wouldn't be stolen. 

Walking inside, Lucas's body immediately absorbs the cool atmosphere encircling the air conditioned restaurant and relaxes. It contrasted pleasantly with his previous surroundings, a welcome relief after a long time spent outside. Eliott grabs a table, secluded in a back corner, allowing for some semblance of privacy. 

"So, what can I get for you?" 

"You realize you effectively stopped being a waiter after we left that god awful party right?"

"Force of habit?"

"Never mind that," Lucas says, "I'll get it." ignoring Eliott's protests and standing up.

"What if someone recognizes you?"

"In this state?" Lucas points out his disheveled self, hair sticking upwards, sweat stained clothing and all, "I don't think I'd recognize myself in a mirror like this."

"Seriously Eliott," he continues,  "Let me do this. As a thank you." 

"Alright," Eliott relents, "Guess you can't really say no to royalty right?" Lucas pulls a face at the remark, walking to the counter and pondering on his order as he stood in line. 

It was hot, so definitely something cold. Tons of ice water. Maybe an iced coffee? Was Eliott the type who liked coffee? Fuck, he should have just asked him instead of trying to guess. He's made his way to the front, coming face to face with a worker who looks bored out of her mind. 

"What would you like?"

"Hi," he starts, hoping he'll finalize the order as he goes, "Could I get one large iced coffee, some milk and no sweetener?" _Eliott seems like the type to drink his coffee with full cream and heaps of sugar, but what if he doesn't and hates it, shit now she's staring at me like I'm an idiot, say something anything._

"And, uh-" he cuts himself off, starting again, "What's the sweetest drink you guys sell?" 

The worker raises a brow at him, suggesting a latte drenched in caramel syrup and topped with whipped cream displayed on the board above her. Lucas feels nauseated just looking at it, but wary of the line that seemed to have doubled behind him orders it anyway. In the largest size they had. She rings up the order, waiting for him to pay. He palms at his pockets, feeling the absence of the wallet he usually carried with him. Face draining of all colour, he gapes at Eliott desperately. Eliott, who registers the look after peering up from his phone gets up immediately, approaching the counter.

"I think I left my wallet behind in the car on the way to the party." Lucas admits sheepishly, "I'm sorry." Eliott fakes an exaggerated grumble, to which Lucas shoves him lightly.

"Sorry."

"It's fine," Eliott says, handing a card over to the cashier, "You can get the next one, yeah?" 

They wait at the table, drinking cups of  complimentary iced water from paper cups as the barista prepares their actual order. Lucas, still flustered from the whole interaction, looks down at his shoes the entire time, thoroughly embarrassed. Eliott, to his utter relief, doesn't say anything and focuses on his phone instead. At the mention of their drinks Lucas almost runs forward, grabbing both and sitting down quietly at the table, passing Eliott's glass towards him wordlessly. Eliott looks up, just barely, thanking him, taking a sip, eyes widening. 

"Wow, this is sweet." Lucas is mortified until Eliott grins, "How'd you know this is how I drink it?"

"Lucky guess?" 

"Nothing's lucky," he declares seriously, "It's all part of one big plan called fate."

"Me getting your drink order right is fate?"

"Oh, shut up."

 

When they've cooled down significantly, a little more than half their drinks remaining, Eliott leads them back through another park, mirroring the beginning of their night together. Their coffees, iced to complement the humid summer night, clinked against the baskets of the bikes threatening to spill over. Lucas can feel the sweat starting to accumulate at the back of his neck again, momentarily disappearing in the cool air conditioning of the cafe, staining the white of his button down despite removing his jacket at the beginning of their excursion. How long ago was that? 

The pair stop at a bench with a bike rack in its proximity, winded and eager to catch their breath. Eliott parks his first, flopping on the bench with a large exhale. He gestures towards the space next to him with a tilt of his head, motioning Lucas who gravitates over without a second thought. Parking his own bike, the latter sits down gingerly next to the older man, conscious of maintaining a buffer between Eliott's body and his own. 

"Tired?"

"Nope."

"You're in the dark with a stranger," Eliott states, "You're not even a little scared?"

"Me? Scared?" Lucas asks, pointing at himeslf, "Not scared."

"Not even a little?"

"Nope," Lucas flicks a stray piece of the paper wrapping the remained on the straw, "Besides, you're not a stranger." 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Lucas says, surprising himself as he realizes it's true "Not anymore." Eliott's expression is unreadable, uneasiness beginning to surface before he hides it. It's quiet then, as the two alternate between sips of now watered down lukewarm coffee and murmurs about constellations dotting the night sky.

"I used to do this with my mom all the time." Lucas admits, the faintest of smiles unconsciously appearing on his face.

"Really?"

Lucas nods, continuing, "When I was younger, and she was having one of her 'good days', as she liked to call them, we would sit together like this." he gestures towards both of them.

"There was a balcony in her room with this old porch swing set up. She would grab a huge blanket to wrap around both of us, and point out the stars in the sky, connecting the dots as if they actually looked like anything." Lucas laughs softly at the thought.

"Even back then, I thought it was so lame. I could never see the shapes she tried to point out," he pauses to take a sip of his coffee, feeling tears involuntarily forming, "But that's how I remember her you know? That's what I choose to remember, when all I can think of is the bad." 

"You okay?" Eliott asks. Lucas redirects his attention from the sky back to Eliott, meeting his concerned gaze head on. 

"Yeah," he sighs, brushing away one of the tears that managed to slip, "I'm fine."

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be." Eliott says assuredly. He looks like he wants to ask more, and God help Lucas he might have told him everything. But he doesn't. Instead, he places his drink next to him on the bench, taking Lucas's hand in his own, startling Lucas with the sudden contact. Lucas feels himself flush, hand ready to pull itself away based on pure reflex, but Eliott has it grasped too tightly, and if he's being honest, he really doesn't want to let go anyway. 

"This one," Eliott whispers, guiding Lucas's hand gently along a cluster of stars, "Is Ursa Minor."

It's like he's in a literal trance. Lucas doesn't speak, can't move as Eliott continues to talk while he tries his best to listen. 

"And, do you see that one?" Eliott uses his other hand, pointing at the star in the group that shines a little brighter than the rest of them, "That one, is Polaris."

"The North Star." Lucas murmurs back, recalling his mother telling him the story of Zeus's illegitimate children who were turned into bears and cast above the world, serving as a map to those down below. He turns to Eliott, who quickly turns his attention back to the sky. 

"Yeah," Eliott breathes out, "I thought you said you weren't good at this?"

"Maybe I just needed a little help." 

They continue to trace formations in the sky, halfway through the outline of Canis Major when their eyes meet, Eliott's gaze drifting to Lucas's lips and staying there. Lucas, feeling his heart pounding loudly, looks at Eliott's mouth for a split second before diverting his gaze, sipping at his beverage nervously.

"Want to come back to mine?"

Eliott poses the question so nonchalantly, it takes a moment for Lucas to register what he's saying. When he does, he proceeds to promptly choke, coffee threatening to drip out the edges of his mouth.

"Right, I get it." Eliott says laughing. 

Lucas feels his heart pounding and blood rushing, but the residual adrenaline thrumming in his system is enough to stop him from passing out. He glances over at Eliott, whose gaze, to Lucas's surprise, is still fixated on him. Unable to handle it, he flinches and focuses his attention again to the remnants of coffee in the cup, using the straw to absentmindedly stir.

A pause. The air has changed. Lucas can't quite explain it. It just feels, different. He lets out a breathe. One. Then two more, before mustering the courage to look up, one more time, at Eliott whose sitting next to him on the bench, shoulders brushing against Lucas's own, seemingly unaffected. 

"Maybe next time?" 

 _No_ , he wants to say. _Take me with you right now_. The playfulness leaves Eliott's expression briefly. _Did I say that out loud_? A blink and you would've missed it. But Lucas doesn't blink and Eliott suddenly isn't as relaxed anymore.

For a few seconds, they just stare, neither looking away. And for the first time that night, Eliott, unwillingly, has nothing to say. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_. This felt eerily familiar. The quickening of his pulse, the tension serving as a prelude before the inevitable, Eliott was leaning closer and oh God, how he wished he could do the same. He almost does, then he remembers.

The pointing and whispers behind his back on campus, his classmates' and professors' refusal to look him in the eye, his father's disapproving star- 

"I'm not gay." Lucas blurts out. Eliott's demeanour tensed, shoulders visibly stiff as he shifted away from Lucas, sitting up straight instead of against him like he had been earlier. 

"Never said you were."

"You kind of implied it." Lucas says accusingly. Eliott's stare turns hard, brow furrowing as he stands up from the bench, back turned towards Lucas.

"Do you have a problem with gay people?"

"Of course not!" Lucas exclaims, "I'm just not one of them." 

"Got it." 

"I don't." Lucas says, more firmly this time. Eliott turns around, gauging Lucas's expression as if trying to determine the truth behind his defense. Something must have convinced him, because he sat back at his original spot on the bench, albeit at a reasonable distance from the younger man. They drink their coffees in silence, the awkwardness lingering as the sound of liquid being strained from glasses clashed with the cicadas singing in the background. 

 _Say something_ , Lucas thinks to himself, _Anything would be better than this_.

"Fuck," Eliott says suddenly, breaking eye contact to peer at his phone, "It's way past 23:00." Lucas looks at his own watch, reading the time in disbelief. The hands were stuck just past 20:25. The easygoing nature is back, Eliott reverting back to his casual body language and lazy smile. He stands, stretching his arms from side to side. 

"Does Your Highness require an escort back?" Lucas doesn't bother replying, sticking his middle finger up instead. Eliott laughs and returns to him.

"I'm just kidding Lucas!" Eliott exclaims, reaching down to ruffle the younger man's hair, "Come on, I'll drop you off."

"What am I supposed to do with this bike?" Lucas wonders out loud, shoving Eliott's hand away, attempting to mold the hair back in shape with whatever gel remained in it.

"Just leave it here," Eliott shrugs, pointing towards the bike rack next to the park bench, "My friend can pick it up in the morning."

"Oh, okay," Lucas says before coming to another realization.

"Wait, do you expect me to run after you while you ride then?"

"I am capable of walking the bike you know."

"How nice," Lucas compliments sarcastically, "But seriously, why would you do that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Eliott says confused, "It's for the future of Monaco of course! Can't have the incoming leader of a dear neighbour wandering off and getting lost." he teases.

"Eliott come on," Lucas ignoring his joke, "I can just ask Jules to send a driver." 

"Alright I won't," Eliott proclaims abruptly, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans before sitting down on the bike and gesturing towards the front of it with a nod, "Want to ride together then? You could probably fit in the basket." Eliott laughed at his own joke, laughing even louder after seeing Lucas roll his eyes at the idea.

"Come on, Lucas," he continues, imitating Lucas's previous tone, "Don't be difficult." He makes a show of getting off the bike, leaning against it and looking at Lucas with a knowing glint in his eyes.  

"Fine." Lucas huffs, approaching a beaming Eliott, "But only for the future of Monaco."

"For the future of Monaco."

"Where are you staying, by the way?" Lucas repeats the name of the hotel he barely had the chance to see since arriving.

"Huh," Eliott says, "I live around the same area." Lucas feels his heart swell. Maybe its the lingering effects of the weed in his system, or the persisting adrenaline causing his pulse to beat in overdrive, but the possibility of bumping into Eliott more often throughout the remainder of his trip made the whole situation a bit more bearable.

The walk back to the hotel is slow, at a leisurely pace neither feels like speeding up, despite Lucas being expected back almost two hours ago. They stroll in comfortable silence, conversation, when it happened, easing back into casual exchanges about everything and nothing at the same time. Every once in awhile Lucas would look over at Eliott, admiring the slant of his jaw and the stubble that had begun to form along it. They had spent almost the whole night together, but Eliott's eyes shone as if he could stay up for hours more.

"This is it right?" Eliott's voice stirs Lucas out of his dazed state, now noticing they are standing near the entrance to the hotel.

"Yeah," Lucas trails, thinking twice before adding on, "I had a good time."

"Me too." Eliott says, smiling.

"You didn't take me to the Eiffel Tower though?" Lucas says teasing, "Isn't that the first landmark you take a tourist to here?"

"Next time."

Lucas warms at the implied promise of a next time. Even if it wasn't concrete, the hope that it came with was enough. He gives Eliott a small wave, and begins to walk towards the building. 

"Hey!" Lucas looks back at Eliott from the double doors. 

"Yeah?"

"Are you free tomorrow?"

 _No. Not really._ "Yeah."

"Cool," Eliott says beaming, "We should hang out again." Lucas can't help it. He returns it with a hesitant smile of his own.

"When you want." 

"I'll give you a call," Eliott gives him a wink, climbing back onto his bike, "Good night, Your Highness." Raising a hand in a two finger salute, he pushes off and pedals away, disappearing into a dot camouflaged against the ostentatious streetlights of the city. Lucas isn't even irritated by the use of his title in Eliott's farewell.

It's not until he's lying down in bed, after ignoring Jules' disapproving looks and heading straight for the confines of his hotel room that it registers.

_When did Eliott even get his phone number?_

* * *

It would have been the easiest thing in the world. 

Lucas had left behind his phone on the table of the cafe as he went to order at the front. Eliott had caught a glimpse of him entering the passcode (for someone so risk averse, Lucas setting the sole source of protection on a device serving as a link to the most private parts of his life as his birth year was endearing as fuck, if not kind of stupid) earlier that evening. Four digits stood in the way of him and his next paycheque, one that if his employer wasn't lying about would be enough to possibly live off of for the rest of the year. But he couldn't. Because Lucas wasn't just beautiful, he was smart, and funny, and definitely not the egotistic player the media had dubbed him as. 

Still, Eliott wasn't a saint. 

Avoiding the camera roll and text message history, he immediately pressed the list of contacts and selected the option to add a new one, quickly ringing his own phone so that Lucas's number was subsequently saved on it.

If this had to happen anyway, he might as well enjoy himself before it came crashing down.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love locks on pont des arts bridge have been banned for awhile now. i just wanted to throw it in bc im cheesy af lol  
> the bikes were a lil tb to og skam, i miss isak and even  
> here's a fun idea: take a shot every time one of them 'smiles' in this hahahah  
> and as always, some creative liberties taken for the sake of this not becoming too complicated
> 
> i actually have the last chapter of this already written i'm just trying to figure out how i want things to play out in between. i will be taking a couple of days to flesh out the rest of the story and get an idea of where i want to go with it but once its done i'll probably update daily until its over. as i write this I'm also writing my final paper for a family economics course so forgive me if i slip up (just like i hope i don't throw in a line about Lucas staring at Eliott in my essay ) 
> 
> if you're in university like me (shoutout to my fellow undergrads) you're probably in the midst of finals season as well right? hope you all take care of yourselves and come out successful in the end!


	3. day two (three and four)

_ "i've never felt this way before." _

* * *

They don't meet the next day.

Eliott does it on purpose. His fingers itch to type out a message to Lucas, a quick "do you feel like getting a bite? if your curfew allows it.", winking emoji optional. But he manages to stop himself, just barely. 

It was a job. Lucas was a literal prince. Eliott knew the attraction was fleeting, destined to end before it could start. He knew this, and that was exactly why he stayed away from his phone all day, choosing instead to research more about Lucas, his family, the rumours circling him, if nothing else to serve as a reminder of what this was all for. It was a paycheque in the making, nothing more and nothing less.

An educating experience, to say the least. He had a faint idea of the fucked up backdrop the monarchy existed against, but actually delving into research that went beyond approved press releases, cross referencing stories from niche websites and tabloids, legitimate sources and stories from his reporter friends, he found himself sympathizing with the young prince. The daddy issues were a given, what with Lucas's father doing a ridiculously bad job of concealing the fact that he was a grade A asshole. His mother, who took a considerable amount of digging in order to unearth any information not provided by articles dating to the early 2000s, when the current king and former queen were still newlyweds, was suffering from some sort of mental illness that led to her being driven out of the palace.

 _That must have been what Lucas was alluding to the night before_ he thinks to himself, continuing to scroll through endless pictures, paparazzi shots of Lucas leaving parties with a girl on each arm, goofing off with his friends. There were a few of a teenage Lucas, angrier and visibly annoyed in the images obviously taken against his will. As Eliott browsed further on, newer images emerging, the prince looked progressively more aloof as he learned to hide his emotions better, straightfaced unless he was flashing a diplomatic smile. His eyes looked dead in almost all of them, except for a few in which they looked incredibly sad. 

Eliott felt a pang in his heart. This wasn't the guy he was initially planning on entrapping. Guilt, something he'd never really felt in the face of money, regardless of the methods he'd associated with earning it, began to fill his head. Could he really go through with this? 

 _Of course he could_ , Eliott tells himself, hardening his resolve and nodding slightly. Lucas wasn't special, and this was just another job.

He closed his laptop, heading into the small kitchen tucked away in the corner of his bachelor pad to fetch his regular barebones breakfast and proceeded to flop on the couch, cursing as spare crumbs flew onto his shirt from the exertion. Brushing off the remnants, he takes out his phone, mindlessly scrolling through texts from his boss and emails he neglected to respond to. He pauses at the sight of one, almost choking when he notices the name of the sender. It was the gallery that he had messaged on whim with some of his photos after seeing an advertisement for an upcoming event, curated for newcomers and amateurs to display their work.

_Mr Demaury,_

_Thank you for your interest in our event. We were very impressed with the work you submitted to us for our upcoming event catered towards amateur artists, and are pleased to offer you with the opportunity to display your pieces. All attendees are required to submit five (5) original works (including but not limited to photographs, paintings, sketches, sculptures etc.), two (2) of which must be unique from the portfolio submitted in the process of your application._

_Feel free to reach out to on-_

_"Very well."_   the familiar voice chimes from the TV, stagnant on some random news channel in the background as Eliott scarfed borderline stale bread and lukewarm coffee down his throat. He pauses, looking up from the email, rewarded with the image of a smiling Lucas on the screen as he speaks with a popular news anchor. 

And, he almost forgets.

Recovering, Eliott reaches for his phone, lying face down across from him. He hesitates, formulating a text inside his head and finalizing it a second later, sending it out immediately lest he change it yet another time.

* * *

vendredi 10:30

 

 _"_ _Want to come back to mine?"_

Eliott's words echoed in the back of Lucas's mind. Or was it the front? Maybe all around.

It was all encompassing, really. If thoughts could infiltrate the body like they did the brain, Eliott, the night they spent together, and his suggestive tone had spread across Lucas like a flu.

When a day went by, no promised text or call surfacing, Lucas found himself more disappointed than he cared to admit. Despite the awkward moment on the bench, when Eliott had almost kissed him and Lucas had almost let him, he found his thoughts drifting back to the night they had spent together. Eliott was the only thing he could think of, even as Jules signaled frantically behind the camera upon his lack of response to the reporter in front of him.

"Sorry," Lucas apologizes, smoothing the front of his shirt and straightening up on the chair he was seated at, "What was the question?" 

"Has the city treated you well so far, Your Highness?"

Lucas pauses.

"It's been-" he starts, thoughts flashing back to late night bike rides, too sweet coffee drinks and the starry eyes of a certain waiter rivaling the wide expanse of the Parisian night sky, "Very well." he amends, smiling softly.

The anchor grins back, cutting to break and complimenting his interview skills as her make up gets touched up. Lucas excuses himself, taking advantage of the break in the live broadcast and heading in the direction of the bathroom when his phone chimes. 

 

**33 1 23 23 23 23**

Hi  
:)  
10:52

 

The number is unrecognizable, but he knows nonetheless. Heart thudding, he types, retypes, and eventually replies.

 

**33 1 23 23 23 23**

Do I know you?  
10:55

Wow your highness, I'm a little upset :(  
10:56

Let me guess, the waiter with the sugar addiction  
10:58

More like the guy who gave you the night of your life  
11:05

Just kidding  
11:06

 

Lucas's breath hitches at the innuendo, unsure of how to respond. He wants to flirt back, be witty and charming like he's been with countless girls he's dated in the past before giving up on that prospect completely. But he hesitates too long, and can't bring himself to do it when the moment passes. 

The interview wraps up, Lucas breathing a sigh of relief as the tension attributed with a live broadcast was replaced with frustration in his inability to respond to Eliott's texts. He slumps in the backseat of the limo, half listening as Jules rattles off the remainder of the events scheduled for the day, staring at Eliott's newly created contact name in his cell phone as if it would magically cause a message from him to appear. He almost yelps when the telltale notification alert sounds off.

 

**Eliott**

What are you doing today?  
12:14

According to the official royal agenda, a lot  
12:15

Wow fast response  
Can you get out of it?  
12:16

Why?  
12:20

Come over  
You know where my place is now  
And I believe you owe me a date  
12:30

 

"Jules?" Lucas says, without even realizing.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Do you think I can rest for a bit before whatever else we have to do?" he asks, coughing to emphasize his point, "My head's starting to hurt."

"And it's making you cough?" _Fuck._

"Just-" Lucas starts, "I'm not feeling well, okay? Can I please stay at the hotel for a bit?"

"Okay, Your Highness."

* * *

vendredi 16:09

 

Sometimes, Lucas surprises even himself.

He's standing outside Eliott's apartment, which was shockingly close to the hotel like he'd mentioned the last night they were together. After receiving the text from Eliott, detailing his address and an easy way to get there without being subject to excessive witnesses, he spent an excruciatingly long time trying to figure out how to leave the hotel room without alerting Jules. It took very strategic placement of pillows under his covers, and a tread that would have put Ferris Bueller to shame to escape the building. 

Now, he waits, confirming twice that he's in front of the right door before knocking. He hears a faint 'Coming!', hurried footsteps, and then Eliott's in front of him, beaming.

Is it possible for someone to look so disheveled and perfect at the same time? Lucas is glad he stuck with his instincts and wore something casual, especially after seeing Eliott dressed in a comfy t-shirt and grey sweatpants. The jeans were a good call.

"Hey! You made it."

"Yeah," Lucas says, shifting nervously on the back of his soles, "Definitely wasn't easy."

"Good thing your curfew doesn't extend to daytime." Eliott jokes, moving aside to allow space for Lucas to enter.

"Haha," Lucas mutters sarcastically, "It was one time," 

"Right, sure." Eliott agrees solemnly, laughing at Lucas's pout, "You want something to drink?"

"What do you have?"

"Coffee, beer, authentic Parisian tap water," Eliott lists off, raising his eyebrows, "Take your pick."

"Beer, please."

"Got it," Eliott affirms, "Be right back." 

He leaves Lucas on his own, allowing him to survey the studio more closely. It wasn't by any means luxurious like the living arrangements he'd become accustomed to, but it emanated this warm feeling that the palace had always lacked. There were papers scattered across the floor, numerous mugs lining the coffee table. The furniture looked worn, but incredibly comfy, a small armchair and sofa surrounding a modest TV that was playing a popular French sitcom he'd seen being played throughout the duration of his trip. One wall was covered with photos, some with Eliott and what he assumed to be his friends and family, others of varying subjects, from portraits to landscapes. Hues of orange sunsets and cool waters contrasting with one another, contained within numerous frames formed a colourful mosaic on the otherwise plain white wall. He approaches the display, momentarily distracted by the huge bookcase in his path.

Lucas runs his fingers along the spines of the novels lined up against the shelf, hardbacks and soft covers in a multitude of colours, some brand new and others that looked worn, as if they'd been opened, poured over, closed and opened again. One title catches his eye, a book that looks particularly weathered out relative to its company. He extracts it from the shelf, carefully to avoid disturbing the others surrounding it, and flips through the pages, noting highlighted passages and messy handwriting scrawled in the margins. He stumbles on an excerpt, the page on which it lies being dogeared in multiple corners.

 

 

 

 

> _“What is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark-"_
> 
>  

"All good?" Eliott's back in the room, armed with a bottle in each hand. Lucas looks up from the book, smiling at Eliott and placing the novel carefully back on the shelf.

"All good." Lucas replies, accepting one of the beverages and clinking it against Eliott's own. They're silent for a moment, bridging on the edge of comfortable and slightly awkward, before Lucas breaks it.

"It's a nice apartment." he offers.

"Thanks," Eliott chuckles, "Definitely not a palace, but it's alright."

"No I mean it," Lucas says, "The books, the photos on the wall-"

"You like those?"

"The books? I'm not really a huge fiction reader." 

"I meant the photos."

"Oh yeah!" Lucas lights up, turning to examine them more closely, "They look great. Like they belong in a gallery. Where did you get them from?"

Eliott grins, taking a swig of his beer and walking over closer to where Lucas stood, pointing at himself to Lucas's surprise.

"What, for real?" 

"Yeah," Eliott confirms, almost shyly, "It's mostly for fun, I haven't really had the chance to use them for anything."

"Eliott these are amazing," Lucas proclaims, continuing when Eliott just shrugs, "I mean it!" 

"Really?"

"Of course!" he says animatedly, "I wouldn't lie." A thought came to Lucas suddenly.

"Wait, what do you do exactly? Besides moonlight as a waiter." Lucas teases, half joking and half serious. He really had no clue what Eliott did besides turning Lucas into a schoolboy with a hopeless crush every time he opened his mouth. Eliott ponders for a moment, contemplating over a sip, then one more of beer, before responding carefully. 

"If I'm being realistic? I have no idea," Eliott admits, "But, if this was a hypothetical world where all dreams came true, I guess I'm a photographer."

"And why can't it be?"

"Are you familiar with the concept of hypothetical?"

"Haha," Lucas says sarcastically, "I mean it though. What's stopping you?"

"I don't know," Eliott answers, angling himself so that he's looking at Lucas directly instead of standing adjacent to him, "Same thing stopping you I guess?"

"Me?" Lucas says, pointing at himself comically. Eliott laughs, shrugging it off and moving to sit on the couch, walking away from the wall covered with pictures.

"Forget it." Eliott dismisses, flopping on the couch and placing the bottle on the messy coffee table in front of him. Lucas walks over as well, arms crossing over one another as he stands in front of Eliott, bottle dangling from his left hand.

"No, tell me." Lucas pushes. Eliott, clearly not wanting to start an argument, sighs reluctantly.

"Just seems that it would do you good to follow your own advice."

"I'm perfectly happy with who I am." Lucas declares, a little too forcefully. Or lies, really. Eliott stares at him from the couch, cocking his head and leaning forward.

"Are you sure about that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lucas questions accusingly. Eliott thinks for a moment, clearly trying to find words that won't offend him. He motions towards the empty spot next to him on the couch, waiting for Lucas to sit down. Lucas, initially intending on maintaining his stance, gives in at the inviting look in Eliott's eyes. Placing the half empty bottle on the table, he takes a seat, careful to keep some distance between the two. Eliott seeing this shifts closer to Lucas, who stiffens at first, but relaxes when the other man places a comforting hand on his knee.

"I haven't known you for long-"

"Two days," Lucas interjects, "Barely."

"Right, two days," Eliott agrees, "I don't know you at all, really," he makes sure he's looking at Lucas, really looking at him, and continues, "But from what I do know, I can tell there's something holding you back. And I don't know exactly what it is, but it's there."

He's stunned. No one's seen through Lucas this fast. Not even Yann who's known him since they were young kids, definitely not his mom or dad, or even Jules who spends literally hours on end with him, had managed to see past his act. Who was this guy, who literally needed to spend a fraction of a day to see past the walls Lucas had carefully built around himself over the past few years?

"What I do know," Eliott says, interrupting Lucas's trail of thought, "Is that we pretend to be who we aren't because we're afraid. And really, we're afraid, not of one thing, but a billion little things that seem impossible to get past." 

Lucas has long averted his gaze away from Eliott, and only looks up when Eliott stops speaking. The other man is still staring at him, gazing for a second longer.

"But Lucas," Eliott begins again, "If we live our lives in fear, who are we living for? Because it's definitely not for ourselves," Eliott leans closer, until their faces are mere inches apart.

"And if that's the case, what's the point in living, really?" 

There's a moment, where Lucas finds his eyes landing on Eliott's lips, much like the latter's had gravitated towards his own Wednesday night. He can tell Eliott knows exactly where they are, and this time he doesn't bother trying to hide it. But this time, it's Eliott who pulls away, picking up his beer and reverting back to his slumped position against the cushions. Slightly disappointed, Lucas mirrors his actions, silence washing over them once more.

"They really are beautiful, Elliot." Lucas comments after a minute.

"Thank you."

"Truly," Lucas says, "The headlines will read, 'This Generation's Annie Leibowitz'."

"Stop it." Eliott warns, mirth infecting his voice. He nudges his shoulder against Lucas's deliberately, doing it again when Lucas stifles a laugh.

"Alright, alright!" Lucas surrenders, raising his arms in defeat. He looks over at the photos on the wall again, deciding to lighten the somber mood that still lingered from the previous conversation.

"If you had to take a picture of me," Lucas proposes, a question and challenge in one, "How would you take it?"

Eliott ponders, staring at Lucas as if trying to compose the perfect backdrop and elements to capture the subject at hand. He has to physically stop himself from shrinking underneath Eliott's steady gaze, one that persists even as he brings the bottle to his lips to take another sip before he responds.

"I don't know." 

Lucas quirks an eyebrow at Eliott, smirking at the loss of words from the guy who always seemed to have something to say. Eliott, clearly not willing to let him be the one to surprise the other, offers a counter proposal.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?"

Lucas pretends to think, trying not to seem too desperate.

"To be honest," he says, "I think my head will still be hurting." Eliott looks at him quizzically.

"Never mind."

"Can it hurt outside your hotel room?" Eliott asks, playing along.

"Possibly," Lucas answers in what he hopes is a nonchalant manner, "What did you have in mind?"

"You'll see," Eliott says mysteriously, "I'll meet you at the front of your hotel, around 20:00?"

"No." Lucas blurts out, "I mean," he starts again, after Eliott looks startled at the abruptness of his tone, "I think it's better if I just meet you here."

"Alright." 

* * *

samedi 21:21

 

"Hi." Lucas calls out. Eliott, who was facing his apartment away from where Lucas had approached him, was speaking with someone in a hushed tone on the phone. Startled, he jumps a little before hurriedly hanging up, shoving the phone in his pocket and pivoting completely so that he's face to face with Lucas. He grins, reaching out for a quick hug that makes the prince become rigid, eventually melting into the older man's embrace. It lasts a second too long for a casual hug between friends, if they could even consider each other that, before Eliott's the first to back out of it.

"Hi," Eliott responds, "You ready?"

"You tell me?" Lucas asks, looking down at his outfit, "You didn't really give me an idea of what to wear." 

"It's perfect," Eliott, wearing a bulky tan jacket that looks way too warm for the weather on top of tight black pants, hair tousled perfectly imperfect as per usual, assures him.

"You're perfect." he adds with a wink, and Lucas feels the pink emerge and tint his cheeks before his hands can reach out to playfully shove the older man.

"Sorry, sorry!" Eliott puts his hands up in mock surrender, not really meaning it as he chuckles. He starts walking over to a car parked in front of his building, gesturing at Lucas to follow him. It was definitely not the type of vehicle Lucas would usually find himself in, but a respectable model all the same.

"What, no bikes today?" Lucas jokes. Eliott laughs, this time being the one to push against Lucas's shoulder with his own. 

"It's a loan." he whispers as if he's letting Lucas in on a big secret. 

"Wow," Lucas deadpans, "I'm impressed."

"Are you getting in?"

"Only if I get to drive." 

"Sure." Lucas stares at him in disbelief, not thinking Eliott would take his joke seriously. 

"What?"

"Yeah, why not?" Eliott asks, as if its the most obvious thing in the world, "You know how to drive right?"

"I had to get my license, but..." Lucas trails off, "I've never actually driven on my own before." 

"There's a first time for everything." 

"But-"

"Lucas," Eliott interrupts, "You'll be fine, I trust you."

"I don't know, Eliott." Lucas says absentmindedly, still dazed at the prospect. He runs his fingers across the car, where the top of the passenger window met the roof, mentally going through multiple what could go wrong scenarios in his head until he feels a hand clamped across his shoulder, gently squeezing.

"I'm right here." Eliott reassures him, extending the keys out with his other hand.

"Alright," Lucas acquiesces, unsure but starting to get excited, grabbing the keys and heading over to the other side of the car. Glancing over the top of the car at Eliott, who's still smirking as if he won some big competition, Lucas warns him one last time, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I'll take my chances."

"Famous last words." Lucas quips, getting inside the car and gaining his bearings. He sits staring at the panel, trying to recall the driving lessons he had taken ages ago at sixteen that he'd never intended to actually use in the future.

"You have to turn the key in the ignition first."

"I know!" 

"Just making sure." 

With the GPS and Eliott's added instructions, they're off. And it's funny how a simple act, one that people his age probably considered more a chore than a pastime, sent a thrill down his spine. The exhilaration Lucas feels, the warm wind carding through his hair, sending it in every direction guiding it away from its carefully styled form, Eliott's gaze that he can feel on him the whole time instead of the road where it should have been if they wanted to arrive at their destination in one piece. There's nothing comparable, except maybe riding a bicycle through downtown Paris with a certain companion who happened to be sitting next to him in the passenger seat.

"Lucas!" Eliott exclaims suddenly, "That was a red light!"

"Shit!" Lucas swears, grinning when Eliott just bursts out laughing.

"Fuck, be more careful!" 

"Sorry!" Lucas says, trying to contain himself. Thank god there was no one around to get hurt by his carelessness.

"So driving definitely wasn't incorporated in How to Be a Prince 101?" Eliott offers after a beat.

"Shut up." 

The rest of the trip continues without fanfare, Eliott navigating them near the tail end of the route through various shortcuts leading them away from the busy streets located in the heart of the city. Bright lights dim, the bustle dwindling until crowds have thinned out to small groups of young adults and what appear to be college students smoking and chatting freely in clusters. The area is bursting with youth, away from the more tourist infested parts of town and lending itself to a more exclusive feel. Eliott, who has clearly frequented this place often, guides Lucas towards a free parking space, shocking the other man as well as himself when he nails parking the car the first time around.

"Well," Eliott breathes out, "We're here."

"Don't act so surprised."

"I'm not," Eliott grins, "Like I said, I trust you." Lucas smiles back, starting to exit the car.

"Wait," Eliott stops Lucas, gently pulling his arm back to prevent him from opening the door. "You should wear this." Eliott hands him a mask, plain black, the kind that would attach at his ears and cover the lower half of his face completely. 

"Thank you," Lucas stutters out, "I," he says, clearing his throat, "I didn't even think about getting caught."

"Well," Eliott says, "Tonight you're not Lucas, incoming leader of the Monacan monarchy," he starts putting on his own mask, identical to the one he gave Lucas, " Tonight, you can just be Lucas, the twenty one year old with no foreseeable plans, unless they involve getting drunk off your ass."

Lucas immediately clams up, despite Eliott's light tone. He's been in this situation, letting his guard down, thinking it would be okay because it was just one time, only for it to prove there's no such thing as luck when it comes to him.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Eliott notices the change in Lucas's voice, the almost violent manner he splutters the words out in, tinged with anger and the slightest traces of regret. He looks at the younger man worriedly, causing Lucas to sigh. Lucas wished, more than anything, that he could do this without any trepidation. 

"Fine." Lucas relents, "If nothing else, I can just be Lucas, incoming leader of the Monacan monarchy in a black mask." 

"No one's going to be sober enough to notice." 

Lucas follows Eliott to the entrance of the building, glaring neon lights flashing against the night sky. Eliott nods at the bouncer, a large man whose demeanour lightens instantly at the sight of the former. He gestures them in, exchanging a quick fist bump and allowing the two men past the front door.

"A bar?" Lucas yells over the loud music, "That was your grand idea?"

"Not just any bar!" Eliott fires back, voice straining to be heard against the bass echoing across the space. 

"Okay." Lucas says, stretching out the last syllable to emphasize how much he didn't believe him.

"You don't believe me?"

"It's a big claim."

"Fine, Mr. Joykill," Eliott says, leading him towards the bar, "See for yourself."

Eliott orders the pair two shots each, urging Lucas to down both and quickly place his mask back on his face, before dragging him to the dance floor.

The beat of the dubstep track reverberates across the space, thumping a rhythm that Lucas's body finds itself unconsciously attuning to. He starts off sloppy, swaying insecurely and aware of the people around him, until Eliott grabs him and pulls him closer, gently guiding Lucas to follow his movements. He adjusts, attempting to mimic Eliott's dance and the way his body moved fluidly. Eliott takes the opportunity to get even closer, a little too close. But Lucas, running on the high from the music and alcohol lets him. 

It feels good. It took a while, some liquid courage and Eliott coaxing him to the dance floor, but it felt good. To let go somewhere no one knew him, and just simply be. Away from his messed up parents, away from the palace where he felt suffocated every day. 

They're practically on top of each other at one point, Eliott burying his face in Lucas's neck and rubbing against him suggestively. Lucas gasps, at the sensation, craving its return and returning the action full force. Eliott leans back slightly, close enough so that he's still touching Lucas but far enough so that he can look him in the eye. And then he's close again, this time guiding his mask covered lips towards Lucas's. 

It's too much.

"I-" Lucas pushes himself off Eliott, regretting it immediately when he feels the absence of warmth that had enveloped him just recently, "I can't. I'm sorry." 

Lucas rushes towards the bar, ordering another shot from the bartender, downing it one gulp and trying his hardest not to look back at the dance floor. Until the fifth shot of the night kicks in and he can't help it. 

Eliott's dancing, dangerously close to a girl. Lucas recognizes her as one of the many people acknowledged by his companion earlier that night. If it looks anything like the position they had been in before, it was positively scandalous. His father would have had a fit.

Their bodies grind against one another, matching the tempo of the music. Each time Lucas thinks the girl will pounce, capturing Eliott's lips with her own, the latter tilts his head away, putting more force into his movements to compensate. 

Lucas tries, but he can't avert his stare. He's blatantly staring at Eliott now, who seems to be in a trance, confined to his own world on the dance floor, unperturbed by his surroundings. Then, when he least expects it, Lucas is caught. By the object of his affections himself.

Their gazes lock, Eliott's latching onto Lucas as if capturing it in a vice. His pupils are noticeably dilated, boring into Lucas's, penetrating down to the younger man's very core. Lucas has never felt so singled out, and in any other situation would have looked away a long time ago, regardless of how hot the guy staring at him was. However, he's physically incapable of doing so. The thought of it seems almost blasphemous. 

Suddenly, Eliott guides the girls face to line up with his own, pressing his lips to hers in a searing kiss. Lucas audibly gasps, not expecting it, or expecting Eliott to open his eyes and stare at him once again. He continues to kiss her, and continues to look at Lucas, pinning him down to the spot, leaving his mouth wide open. 

Lucas can feel himself getting hard, simultaneously aroused and disgusted by his reaction. But as disgusted as he is, as embarrassed and annoyed by the emotions he feels, he still doesn't look away. And neither does Eliott. 

That's it.

Something inside him snaps. He can't deal with it anymore, doesn't want to. The sight of the two kissing makes him sick, but it reignites the feelings he'd tried desperately hard to push away. And of all things, it's Eliott's words that drive him forward.  _If we live our lives in fear, who are we living for?_

It's what propels Lucas to down the sixth shot. It's what makes him stalk towards the dancing pair, separate Eliott from his partner and pull the older man down to his height for a kiss that knocks the wind out of him, and he'd like to think out of Eliott too. 

_What's the point in living, really?_

Elliot was right. There wasn't. Not until this moment.

With his lips pressed against Eliott's, the cloth masks creating a friction between them that was both frustrating and unbearably erotic at the same time, he's living for himself.

* * *

 

Eliott is so fucked. 

The plan was to get Lucas a little wasted, take some suggestive pictures and call it a day. He didn't expect this. He didn't even want it. Or at least, he convinced himself that he didn't. 

But, when Lucas pushes his dance partner off him, a perfectly nice friend Eliott had made during his visits to the bar in the past, and fuses their mouths together, his knees go weak and he swears he sees stars. 

They persist, past the warnings he shrugs off from the sane part of his mind rationalizing Lucas's behaviour, the hurried manner in which he painfully separates them from one another, dragging Lucas to a more secluded corner of the bar and kissing him senseless without masks serving as a barrier. 

It's pent up tension accumulated over hours of constant flirting, subtext and missed opportunities. Lucas clings to him, and he clings back. Messy, haphazard and all consuming. 

He swears the only thing better than kissing Lucas is kissing him with no holds barred. 

Eliott's never been lauded for his ethics, so he's decides to be selfish. _One last time_ he promises.

He's _so_ fucked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feeling brave might edit later
> 
> i lost this chapter twice and cried once rewriting it the third time hahah
> 
> omg things are progressing so fast??? yeah i know  
> i think its ok, just because this is kind of meant to be a whirlwind romance, you know the kind where you fall hard and fall fast.
> 
> bear with me please. leave realism for the real world lol.


	4. day four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo  
> i've been going through a really rough time for the past couple of weeks. while things aren't resolved i'm determined to finish this story even if it takes me forever. thank you for sticking around :)

" _you're_ _not like the others" _

* * *

samedi 06:33

Lucas woke up to the sun peering through the blinds, fragments of light warming the portion of his bare upper body untouched by the thin blanket entangled around him. The room was tepid, not uncomfortably so, but enough that he felt the stickiness of condensation forming on his legs encased in the fabric of the covers. His surroundings were meager, a nightstand adjacent to the bed he laid in was one of the two pieces of furniture in the otherwise sparsely lived in room. Squinting, he rolled over, bumping against a hard body that chuckled on impact.

_Am I hearing things?_

"Hi."

The murmur reverberated against him, muffled after Lucas unconsciously snuggled closer to the warm body despite the heat. Lucas looked up, graced with Eliott's sleepy eyes gazing back at him with a smile Lucas probably reflected with his own, embarrassingly so he imagined.

So it wasn't a dream. Last nights events came rushing back to him like an impeding storm. Eliott, driving to the outskirts of Paris, getting drunk off his ass, Eliott, dancing with Eliott, kissing Eliott in public, sneaking off to kiss Eliott some more, Eliott speeding back to his place, Lucas unable to keep his hands off him from the passenger seat, stealing soft kisses and warm embraces on the elevator ride up to Eliott's apartment, whispers of his name and Eliott's against each others bodies, Eliott, Eliott, Eliott. His name was a song that Lucas couldn't get out of his head, the sole reason he let down the guard he held onto like a vice otherwise.

Eliott made him crazy, and the worst part was Lucas didn't even care.

"Good morning," he whispered back, "What time is it?"

"Too early."

"What's too early?"

"Trust me," Eliott said, "Go back to sleep."

Too tired to argue, Lucas mutters a sleepy 'okay', slipping back into a sleep more peaceful than any he could recall having for a long, long time. 

 

samedi 10:02

 

Dawn came and went, morning lazily creeping into early afternoon. When Lucas awakens again, the space beside him is empty, a still warm divot in the mattress indicating a presence that recently vacated itself. He rolls over, sinking his face into a pillow that smells like Eliott and breathes in. Feeling a piece of paper bristle against his cheek, he lifts his head up to stare at the sticky note adorned with a cartoon hedgehog, caption reading 'You look beautiful when you sleep.'.

He can't help it. Lucas giggles, actually giggles, feeling the blush rise before he can stop it. 

Stretching his limbs, he steps out of bed, freshening up in the bathroom where a new toothbrush had already been carefully laid out for him. After completing his morning routine, more languidly than he typically would, Lucas exited the room, heading towards the sound of a radio humming in the background.

Eliott's kitchen was small and like the rest of his place, except for the living room that seemed to double as a study, fairly empty. It had all the components, a few appliances, microwave and fridge at opposite corners, but no decor differentiating it from a room straight out of an Ikea catalogue. Hell, even an Ikea catologue had some sort of personality. The whole apartment seemed to be a direct transplant of a first draft floor plan, the lack of adornments making its pale walls stand out more distinctly, causing Lucas to wince slightly as he adjusted to their stark white colour. His tread alerted Eliott, who turned around from the strange smelling concoction cooking on the stove. The other man smiled widely, stepping away from his task to give Lucas a loud peck on the lips, one that makes the latter jump in surprise before he can stop himself.

"Sorry," Eliott apologizes, poking Lucas's nose affectionately, "You're up?"

"Barely."

"Here," Eliott heads back towards the stove, spooning a small amount of what looked like lumpy scrambled eggs and promptly placing the utensil at Lucas's mouth, "Try this."

Against his instincts, Lucas does, grimacing almost immediately before composing himself.

"It's... something."

"Yeah, I know," Eliott sighs, "It's shit."

"Then why would you make me try it?" Lucas spluttered incredulously

 _"Different strokes for different folks."_   Eliott quotes in English, "Luckily, I thought of this in advance." he says, retreating back to the counter and unearthing a box of pastries from their place behind the toaster, "Maybe this will be more appealing?"

"Mm," Lucas says, taking the box and appraising its contents, secretly ecstatic at finding his favourite pastries inside but keeping his tone light, "Cold croissants and lukewarm coffee. The way to my heart."

"Funny, I thought that was joyriding and endless shots," Eliott quipped, "At least, based on past experience."

"Haha."

They sit comfortably on Eliott's living room floor. Eliott has laid out the blanket previously enveloping the pair last night like a picnic spread, even with the couch literally right there. When Lucas asks why, the other man shrugs, countering with a 'Why not?'  that Lucas chooses to accept rather than pushing it further. Eliott leafs through a newspaper, sipping occasionally at his mug, and Lucas nibbles at a buttery croissant, cringing as he goes through his phone. Numerous texts from Jules asking where he was, a few dozen missed calls from his aide, and to Lucas's surprise, his father, making an appearance on his recents list. He looks up, and the tension eases away as he gazes at Eliott, who glances over when he feels Lucas's eyes on him, flashing a quick smile in return. 

"All good?" Eliott asks, noticing the prince's uneasiness.

"Not even close," Lucas says, "But that's okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Lucas nods. 

In that moment, Eliott, with his hair mussed, the tiniest of coffee stains adorning the hem of his shorts, looking very concerned, was so endearing to Lucas that he just wanted to lay his head in the other man's lap and stay there forever. He can't do forever, so he settles for the next minute instead. Placing his empty plate on the coffee table, Lucas shifts so that he's lying down on his side. He gestures with a head tilt towards Eliott's lap, silently asking for permission from the latter who acquiesces easily, if a little bemusedly.

Lucas fiddles with his phone, texting Yann and the group chat distractedly as Eliott absentmindedly combs through the prince's hair, continuing to read his paper. Lucas soon gives up on indulging his friends in conversation, focusing instead on Eliott's strokes, the way some sooth while others are more firm. Lucas feels his eyes closing involuntarily at the sensation, letting out a small moan when one stroke in particular tugs at just the right angle near the crown of his head. Lucas curses internally when Eliott stills at the sound, hearing the other man place down his paper before looking down directly at him.

Eliott curls his hand around Lucas's jaw, thumbing his lower lip gently, giving the younger man a look that instantly made him weak. If he wasn't already lying down, he surely would have fallen. 

"Can I kiss you?" Eliott asks softly. Wordlessly, Lucas sits up, guided by Eliott's hands into his lap. Carding his hands through Eliott's hair, Lucas pulls him towards his lips, immediately feeling overwhelmed. It's different from last night, where a part of Lucas's brain was still unaware that he was kissing Eliott and Eliott was kissing back. Here, in the daylight of Eliott's apartment, fully sober and thoroughly alert, there's no denying it.

They start off gently, soft caresses and warm touches before Eliott slips his tongue past the seam of Lucas's mouth. Breaking away to catch his breath, Eliott takes the opportunity to pepper kisses along the line of Lucas's neck, biting strategically in areas only Lucas would be able to see, licking each subsequent mark. When he's had enough teasing, Lucas pulls Eliott back to his mouth frantically, kissing him hurriedly, as if Eliott would disappear if he let the moment pass. Eliott chuckles against his lips. 

"Lucas," the older man murmurs, continuing to kiss Lucas throughout, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Don't care." Lucas is relentless. He's not even sure where this confidence is coming from. He blames it all on Eliott, really. 

They're interrupted by the chime of multiple buzzes, sounding off from Eliott's phone placed on the far end of the table. Eliott ignores it, focusing all his attention on the span of Lucas's lips. Eventually, Lucas is the one who regretfully pushes the other man away.

"You should check that."

"Don't want to."

"Eliott, I'll still be here," Lucas says, echoing the other man's words from before, "Just answer it."

"Alright." Eliott gives in, stretching his arm far enough so that he can grasp his phone without Lucas having to leave his position in the former's lap. Lucas fiddles with Eliott's hair at the lack of something to do, picking out imaginary lint as Eliott rapidly types out a response. Lucas observes Eliott, noting his change in demeanour from playful to clearly frustrated. 

"It was just work." Eliott says, carelessly throwing the phone away onto the couch as he reverts his attention back to Lucas. He gives Lucas a lingering kiss, but the passion from before was replaced with a certain tenseness that Lucas can only assume originates from the messages Eliott just received. 

"What's wrong?" Lucas inquires, when they simultaneously pull apart.

"Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing." Lucas retorts. Eliott looks thoughtful, sighing before speaking.

"Sometimes, I really do wonder where I'm going with my life." he begins. Lucas brushes a stray lock of hair back from Eliott's forehead, silently kissing at the spot it previously occupied in hopes that it would encourage him to continue.

"I used to have these big dreams about becoming famous for my art, people coming from all over the world just to see my pictures in a gallery, not as an afterthought but as the sole reason for their visit. And then,"

"And then?"

"I don't know. I grew up, I guess." Eliott says, looking down, "Realized that dreams are dreams, not reality, for a reason." 

"You know, I feel that way sometimes too." Lucas confesses, causing Eliott to look up at him disbelievingly. 

"Really? You?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Maybe because your future is basically there for the taking, handed to you on a 'silver platter' as they say. All you have to do is take it."

Lucas is used to hearing the assumption, from the media, his classmates, even his own family made the so called privileged position he possessed in contrast to his contemporaries obvious. But for some reason, hearing it from Eliott caused him to go cold.

"It's not that easy." Lucas says, slightly maneuvering himself so that he's not completely pressed against Eliott like he was before.

"It's not?" 

"I don't know. Maybe it is." Lucas softens at his tone, "But I had dreams too. Dreams beyond what my title could give me."

"Let me guess," Eliott predicts, "You grew up too?"

"I didn't really have a choice."

"Is that why you hide behind the image you let the media create for you? The womanizing playboy turned do gooder?"

"I don't want to talk about that."

"Alright."

"Let's talk about you instead," Lucas says, breaking the awkward silence that had settled over them, "Why is your apartment so empty?"

"Oh, we're getting personal."

"I'm serious! There's literally nothing that suggests someone actually lives here besides this room. What gives?" Lucas asks. Eliott's legs must be numb by now. Lucas reluctantly shifts out of the other's lap, settling down beside him so that both are leaning against the couch, shoulders slotting with one another. Eliott wraps an arm around Lucas, pressing a soft kiss onto the top of the prince's head, leaning on it with his own.

"My theory," Eliott starts thoughtfully, "Is that the minute I settle down, make this place my home versus just somewhere I eat and sleep, it means I've decided that I'm satisfied with where I'm at and ready to commit. And I don't want to admit that I've reached that point because what comes after that?"

"That sounds like bullshit, but okay." 

"Okay Mr. Know It All," Eliott replies mirthfully, turning around so that they both face one another, "Enlighten me. What should I be doing with my life then?"

"Maybe it's not so much figuring out the meaning behind life or whatever. What if we live for the small stuff that happens everyday instead of some big overarching philosophical meaning that everyone seems to be looking for?" 

"Someone's been going through my book collection."

"Sorry." Lucas says sheepishly. Eliott laughs, ruffling Lucas's already disheveled mop of hair.

"Don't be, Virginia Wolff suits you."

"Anyway, I think that's it. Little miracles," Lucas says, Eliott smiling slightly at the reference, "Moments like this, with you. Maybe that's what life is meant to be. I don't need to be the most important person in the world if I can say that I'm happy."

Eliott looks like he's about to say something, but holds back, responding jokingly.

"Says the prince in this conversation." Lucas shrugs, pulling a face that he hopes conveys 'it is what it is' without appearing too smug. The conversation's interrupted with a loud buzz, this time incessant. Eliott picks up his phone and frowns before excusing himself.

"I have to take this." Eliott says apologetically, giving Lucas a sudden kiss that thankfully the latter has gotten used to receiving so much that he barely flinches. Barely.

Lucas takes the chance to finish off his croissant, shaking stray crumbs off his stomach. Eliott still hasn't returned from his call, so he stands up, dirty dishes in hand, exploring the apartment further. Their shoes are lined up at the door, surprisingly neatly after last night. He smiles at the thought of Eliott taking the time to straighten them out, Lucas's simple white trainers against Eliott's slightly larger black ones. It's oddly domestic.

He heads back into the kitchen, leaving his plate and Eliott's empty cup inside the sink, eye catching on a balcony door secured with a lock. Lucas walks up curiously, unlatching the sliding entrance and slipping into the sandals placed at the threshold. The air is stagnant, humid afternoon settling in and heavy against his lungs. The altitude provides some reprieve, definitely less uncomfortable than if he was standing on the street below, but he still finds himself missing the cool night where he lost himself and found Eliott all at once.

Shit. He was so wrapped up in thoughts of Eliott he had completely neglected the events scheduled for today, Jules and his Father's frantic voicemails long forgotten. He could feel his anxiety bubbling up to the surface, the inevitable media speculation, the disapproval of officials back home, disgruntled public that was already on edge. Scolding himself internally, Lucas leans against the surprisingly cold metal of the balcony, fingers itching for a joint to calm his heart from the frenzy he was working himself into.

"There you are." Lucas jumps slightly at the voice and the sound of the door sliding open as it scraped against the ground.

"Fuck, you scared me!"

"Sorry," Eliott apologizes, approaching Lucas, "You alright, Lucas? You look a little pale." 

"I'm fine." Lucas states, eyeing the joint in between Eliott's fingers, "Do you read minds too?" 

"What?" Eliott asks quizzically, brightening when Lucas motions towards his hand.

"Ah, yeah," Eliott says, wrapping his arms around Lucas's waist, "Thought we could share." 

"Do I look like a cheap date?"

"Welcome to my world, Your Highness." Eliott says cheekily. The reminder of his title makes his guilt rush back, clearly distracting him as the two passed the joint in between one another. Lucas is sandwiched in between the metal bars of the railing and the Eliott's hard chest, both of which ground him considerably. 

"What's on your mind?" Eliott whispers in his ear, nipping lightly at the lobe before stealing the joint back.

"This feels so weird."

"How so?"

"You think this is normal?" Lucas asks seriously, "Us, here, like this?"

"No," Eliott starts, "But I feel like you think all of this is weird," he continues clarifying, "How we met, us now."

"And it isn't?" Lucas inquires, leaning his head back against Eliott's chest.

"You're right, it probably is," Eliott concedes, lightly kissing the top of Lucas's head, "But I think we can agree that we like weird."

"We like weird." Lucas affirms, "Still, it all feels so strange, being here, how we ended up here together." Eliott stiffens, almost imperceptibly, but Lucas feels the man's arms tense around him before his grip loosens slightly, retreating to its relaxed position wrapped lazily around Lucas's waist.

"There's a reason for everything."

"You're right," Lucas agrees, "Isn't it crazy though, that all the choices we made since we met combined together made us end up where we are now?"

"I don't like thinking about it that way," Eliott says, "I hate the idea that I'll never know what could have happened, if I chose differently. It drives me crazy."

"I don't think so."

"What do you mean?"

Lucas turns around so that his back is pressed against the balcony rails, cool metal immediately causing him to miss Eliott's embrace. Tilting his head upwards, he looks into Eliott's eyes as he speaks.

"Do you believe in parallel universes?" 

"Parallel universes?" Eliott repeats stoically, fixing Lucas with a stare that made his skepticism clear.

"Hear me out!" Lucas says defensively, Eliott waving him on to continue. 

"Regret stems from the choices we didn't have the chance to make." Lucas starts, "I have to believe that some version of me out there, a better or a worse off version, across the world, in another life, a parallel universe, made the decision i couldn't. I think I'd go mad otherwise."  
  
"And," Eliott prompted, "What would you say? To this hypothetical you?" Lucas's face turned thoughtful, slightly scrunching and brow furrowing in the middle. Eliott can't hold back, kisses the bridge of Lucas's nose who responds with a grin before turning serious.  
  
"I'm glad you lived through the regrets I didn't." Lucas says thoughtfully, "And I hope it's somewhat satisfying knowing I'm living yours too."

They're silent, sun momentarily concealed by fluffy white clouds, the hot summer air swirling around them. Lucas retreats to his previous position, turning around so that Eliott's arms are encircling his body and the expanse of the view from the apartment is once again visible. He hears a sharp intake of breath from Eliott, feels an open mouthed kiss placed on his shoulder, and Lucas swears this can't be real life. 

"If you could do anything, be anything, where would you be right now?" Eliott says suddenly, "Parallel universe Lucases included." he adds on teasingly. Lucas nudges him lightly with an elbow at the jibe. Then he thinks, really thinks, before responding with the first picture that appears in his mind.  
  
"Somewhere far away from everything," he starts, "A big house surrounded by flowers and water. There'd be a huge swing on a big tree in the backyard, where I could fall asleep, read and just, I don't know, exist."

"I don't think I know what it means to just simply be anymore." Lucas confesses, leaning his head back so that Eliott is visible in his peripheral, "Does that make sense?"

"Not really." Eliott admits, laughing at Lucas who huffs and faces forward stubbornly.

"What about you then?" Lucas demands. Eliott leans down to whisper his answer into the younger man's ear.

"Would you believe me if I said there was nowhere I'd rather be than right here, now?" he says, causing Lucas to melt. 

"Oh, yeah?" he says, tilting his head up, desperately inviting Eliott to kiss him who doesn't waste a second accepting. 

"So," Lucas says panting, punctuating each word with a closed mouthed peck to Eliott's lips, "Fucking. Cheesy."

Once the joint is finally finished, the pair make their way back inside the apartment. They spend the rest of the day lazing around, Eliott showing Lucas some of the pictures he'd taken for his portfolio back in art school that weren't displayed on the walls. He tells Lucas about the email he received inviting him to display his artwork at the gallery accessible to hundreds of people, how it was a great chance to get his name out there, but would also require a lot of effort, effort he wasn't sure he had in him.

"I think you should do it." 

"Really?"

"Are you kidding? I wasn't lying when I said you were crazy talented."

Lucas recounts stories about his adventures with Yann, Arthur and Basille back in university, growing up in the palace under the watchful eyes of the public and his family. He poured his soul out to Eliott, who would supplement with his own experiences, listen quietly and respond when appropriate. Things Lucas would never dare to speak aloud came out easily when it came to Eliott, who heard him without judgement, and more importantly without dismissal. 

"Did you know my dad wanted me to major in law?"

"Oh yeah?"

"I majored in Biosciences instead. I had this idea in my head of being a doctor that I wasn't ready to let go of."

"You know, I can see that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Dr. Lucas Lallemant has a nice ring to it don't you think?"

At some point, they both grabbed novels from Eliott's overflowing bookshelf, settling in easily on the couch. This time, it was Eliott who laid his head in Lucas's lap, legs dangling off the edge of the sofa. Immersed in his book, Lucas didn't even realize the time until his vision abruptly refocused to the now dim room. While night still hadn't settled in, the sun had clearly migrated to the other side of the building, hence the lack of natural lighting previously lighting up the room. Glancing at his phone, he swore impulsively, alerting Eliott. 

"It's already past 18:00." Lucas says, rubbing at his temples. After ignoring all the calls and messages from Jules and his dad, he was so deep in shit it wasn't even funny. 

"Shit, you're right." Eliott replies, sitting up, "Can't believe we spent the whole day here."

"I'd better go."

"Right, curfew awaits I'm assuming?"

"More like if I don't my face will be plastered all over the news," Lucas motions the with his hand, "Lost Royalty, if found return to the monarchy." 

"You're kind of full of it aren't you?"

"You think I'm joking?" Lucas asks, retreating to Eliott's room to change into his clothes from the night before, unwillingly parting with the loaned t-shirt from Eliott he had put on at some point during the afternoon. 

"Just keep the shirt," Eliott says casually to Lucas's surprise, "And you're already in shit anyway right? What do you say we make the most of it?"

Lucas, who had stopped in the middle of pulling on his pants, eyes him warily. It doesn't last long though. Sighing he buttons his jeans, leaving Eliott's shirt on. Unable to resist, he bites.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Ready to achieve official tourist status?"

* * *

 

samedi 19:53

 

Lucas still has no idea where Eliott wants to take him until the landmark is clearly in view. 

 _'Next time'_ , Eliott had said after he had asked him why they didn't go to the Eiffel Tower when they toured the city on bikes together. Clearly he was making good on his promise today. Touched, Lucas makes a pit stop at the cafe on their walk over to the tourist site, the one where Eliott ended up paying for both of them after the prince had misplaced his wallet. This time, wallet in hand, Lucas repurchases the same drinks they had ordered a few days ago, grinning triumphantly as he hands Eliott's beverage over. Resuming on their path, they walk side by side, fingers occasionally brushing each other. Much like a few days ago, Lucas wants nothing more than to reach out and grab Eliott's hand in his own, especially now that he knows what it feels like. Except when Eliott attempts to do so, Lucas whispers a harsh 'Not here!', immediately putting a measured amount of distance between the two. Eliott's face flashes with disappointment, quickly transitioning into a look of indifference. He leads them the rest of the way, not speaking much unless it's to direct Lucas up on street or around another curb. 

By the time they've bought their tickets and reached the top of the structure, evening twilight is at its peak, resulting in a view unlike one Lucas has ever seen before. It's breathtaking, and not for the first time during his trip, he's at a loss for words. Eliott finds a spot relatively secluded from the rest of the crowd, as private as it can get at one of the most popular attractions in Paris. Lucas stands at the edge of the tower, looking out at the horizon in wonder, initially not even noticing Eliott when he settles beside him. 

"Thank you," Lucas says softly, looking towards his companion, "For bringing me here." Eliott smiles, hints of discomfort lingering from their previous interaction. 

"No worries." Eliott shrugs noncommittally. Lucas exhales, realizing he needs to explain himself if he wants easygoing Eliott to make his reappearance.

"Sorry, about before." Lucas clarifies.

"You don't have to apologize."

"I owe you an explanation."

"Lucas, it's really not a big dea-"

"Eliott," Lucas almost begs, "Please?" Eliott, perhaps sensing the prince's urgency nods, prompting him to speak further.

"You asked me if I had a problem with gay people before."

"Really Lucas, it's okay. You don't have to explain yourself." Eliott interrupts again, clearly not wanting to interfere on a subject Lucas had reacted to with hostility in the past.

"I want to." Lucas responds certainly.

"Okay."

Lucas mentally prepares himself, looking out again at the view unable to meet Eliott's gaze. If he did, he might have forgotten everything he wanted to say, what he needed the other man to know.

"My problem isn't with gay people, it's with me," Lucas says, "Or I guess what being gay means for me." 

Being gay. That was the first time Lucas had admitted it out loud to someone else. The first time he truly acknowledged it himself. He can feel the tears forming, his voice starting to choke, but he forces himself to continue.

"Did you know I've been caught before, with a guy? He was a classmate, someone who I didn't really know but I thought I could trust." Lucas peeks out of the corner of his eyes, trying to gauge Eliott's reaction. No visible change, his posture was the same, looking forward, mirroring Lucas's own position. But Lucas could tell he was listening attentively. 

"It was supposed to be a one time thing. I'd get it out of my system and it would never happen again. But he was so sweet, and I was so dumb. I genuinely thought we could date in secret, that he actually liked me." Eliott had turned around to look at him directly now. Concern laced his features, as he took in Lucas's face. Lucas, unable to face away faces Eliott head on. He can feel the moisture on his cheeks from where a few tears had leaked out despite his best efforts. Brushing them away forcefully, he starts again, looking down at the ground. 

"I woke up the next day, and Eliott, I'd never seen my dad that pissed. Not even when I had skipped an exam to get high with Yann in my final year of high school. The guy who I hooked up with had another classmate take a video of us and threatened to leak it to the press. My father had to give them an obscene amount of money to shut them up." 

Eliott can definitely tell he's crying now. Lucas can hear it in his own voice, the tremble as he attempts to steady it unfading. 

"The worst part was, he didn't explode or yell. He just said if I had to do it, why couldn't I be better at hiding it? Did I want to be the reason for the monarchy being overthrown, as if him kicking my mom out of the palace and replacing her like she was nothing wasn't worse than me caught kissing a guy." Lucas laughs bitterly, wiping his nose ungracefully with the back of his hand. He probably looks like a mess right about now.

"And that's what I've been doing since then. Hiding it. Pretending like it never happened." Eliott hesitantly catches Lucas's face in his hands. Lucas doesn't have the energy to deny him anymore. Uncaring about who sees, he leans into the touch, a sob escaping when Eliott gently rubs away the wetness on his cheeks with the pads of his fingers. 

"You're the first one, since then," Lucas admits, "My first guy, the first one that actually matters anyway." Eliott embraces him, causing Lucas to throw his own arms around the older man, clinging and crying soundlessly into his shoulder. When he's calmed down, Lucas breaks away embarrassed. 

"Well as long as we're sharing secrets," Eliott says, still clutching Lucas's hand is in his own, "I'm bipolar."

"Bipolar?" Lucas repeats in disbelief.

"Yeah," Eliott answers, "I was diagnosed when I was a teenager. I'm fine, by the way. Medication, therapist, I've got it all covered." 

"I didn't always though," he continues, "Let's just say, I know what it feels like to hide a part of yourself from everyone. Even the ones you love."

"It's not worth it, Lucas."

"Maybe." Lucas says quietly, "But in my world, the alternative isn't much better either."

With dusk transforming to night, the moon is out in full force, casting shadows on the building and illuminating their faces in the otherwise dark. Lucas is hit with a wave of exhaustion, despite spending the majority of the day lounging around Eliott's apartment. His confession, while ultimately freeing, tired him out. He looks out again to the landscape, leaning his head against Eliott's shoulder, who in return snakes an arm around his waist pulling Lucas closer.

"I don't think anything in the world comes close to this view," Eliott declares, looking out into the crowded downtown of the city lit up with streetlights and signs like a detailed nightscape. 

 _Yes, there is._ Lucas thinks, with the irrational side of his brain. _Is it crazy that I'm falling in love with you?_  

He says, instead,

"Yeah," Lucas agrees, staring at the man beside him, "It's beautiful."

"Here," Eliott says suddenly, "Give me your phone."

"Why?"

"Just give it!" Lucas hands it over suspiciously, only to laugh when Eliott urges him to pose, experimenting with a couple of angles and different expressions before he's satisfied.

"Might as well give you the full tourist experience, now that we're here." Eliott jokes as he hands back the unlocked phone to Lucas. 

"How'd you know my password?" Lucas asks confusedly. Eliott coughs, looking away.

"Lucky guess?" Eliott suggests, sounding more like a question than a statement, "I mean, come on. Your birthday? I thought you'd be smarter than that." he chides, adding on with a grin, "How to Be a Prince 101 really failed you didn't it?"

"Shut up!" Lucas laughs, playfully shoving at Eliott who wraps an arm around him. This time, shrouded by darkness and indifference of the people around him, Lucas lets him. And before he can stop himself, tiptoes and pecks the taller man's quickly, burrowing himself in Eliott's embrace immediately after. 

The descent down to the ground comes when the pair realizes they've spent more than an hour goofing off. In the elevator full of other patrons, their hands find one another, stealthily holding on to each other behind Eliott's back as the two crowd a corner within the enclosed space. Feeling brave and propelled by the anonymity accompanying the busy city, Lucas's grip on Eliott's hands doesn't falter even as they exit onto the street, despite Eliott's worried 'Are you sure?' stare. Lucas just nods determinedly, confident and sure. Until,

"Lucas."

The sharp tone pierces through the air, shattering any semblance of relief the night had given him. It's powerful enough that even Eliott stills in his tracks, turning around to acknowledge the source of the voice. Lucas doesn't have to, he'd recognize it anywhere. Gulping, he takes a deep breath before facing what he'd been trying to ignore the whole day.

"Father."

He looked pissed. Lucas knew from the dozens of ignored calls and messages that there would be hell to deal with once he acknowledged them. He didn't anticipate however, that it was serious enough for his father to physically make an appearance for. There was the cloak of indifference Lucas had grown accustomed to seeing on his father, but beneath was a scowl ready to come out as soon as they were out of the public eye. His father's gaze shifted from him to Eliott, settling on their joined hands, and was Lucas hallucinating or was that pity he saw in his eyes?

"Back to the hotel, now." his father states firmly, no room for argument, "We need to talk." 

Without sparing another glance, he sits down in the limo, door held open by the chauffeur awaiting Lucas so they could drive off. Realizing he had held on to Eliott's hand during the entirety of the confrontation, Lucas lets go, giving the other man a reassuring look as he heads towards the awaiting vehicle. Giving Eliott one final glance, he smiles in what he hopes would convey 'I'm fine, don't worry about it' without having to verbally say it. Eliott reciprocates with a full fledged one of his own, laughing at Lucas's exaggerated 'Call me' hand gesture. Waving at the other man, Lucas gets inside the car, maintaining eye contact with Eliott who remains glued to his spot until Lucas is out of sight.

Lucas doesn't think twice as he pulls his phone out, texting Eliott faster than he can pause to dissect the message syllable by syllable. Despite being in shit deeper than anything he had found himself in before, his disapproving father wearily eyeing him from across the limo, his heart feels light. Whatever he has to hear, any punishment awaiting him, it was worth it. 

* * *

Eliott couldn't do it. But he did it anyway. 

When Lucas groggily woke up, Eliott had been awake for half an hour already, thoroughly regretting how it had come to this point. Not that it happened, just the schematics of how Lucas wound up in his bed after last night. 

He urged Lucas back to sleep, only to hesitantly pull up his phone and snap a few shots of the blissfully unaware prince. The setup of the photo was suggestive enough to get the point across, and the last one of the bunch made it pretty obvious that his companion was of non female persuasion. 

It was low. The lowest of the low that Eliott had ever gone to get the job done, and the regret hit him immediately, along with sleep deprivation accumulated after nights of research and glorified stalking he categorized as the former. He felt his eyes closing before he could delete the final incriminating image, joining Lucas in slumber until they woke up hours later.

His boss's neverending calls and messages throughout the day only irritated him further, the constant 'Did you get what you need?', 'You know he's leaving soon right?', 'Do you not want to get paid?' grating his nerves. Each one served as a reminder of why he was spending time with Lucas in the first place, rousing him from the state of bliss that he felt when he was with the younger man.

It would have been easier, if he could keep believing what Lucas had shown him when they first met. If the media portrayal was factual and not just fodder conjured up for the sake of the next big scandal. Ironically enough, in his mission to confirm what he thought he knew about the young prince, the more time he spent with Lucas the more he realized how completely wrong he was about him. Lucas was kind, sweet, and funny. He could make Eliott laugh one minute and make him seriously question his life decisions the next. 

The biggest blow, the one that made him feel like the absolute worst piece of shit on the planet, was Lucas's tearful confession on top of the Eiffel Tower. Up until that point, the self preservation tactics he'd held onto like a religion justified his decision to keep in pursuit of whatever story would offer him the highest payday. Any sort of rationalization he'd convinced himself of at that point shattered at Lucas's admission of being in the exact same position in the past that Eliott was putting him in now. It explained the hesitation, the wariness he'd mistaken for disgust at their first encounter. Lucas was never the asshole in this situation, it was him. It had always been him. 

Worst of all, he could feel himself falling for the prince. Lucas, over the course of a few mere days, had carved out a place in Eliott's life that had belonged to him and only him. The realization only hit when he embraced the other man on top of the tower, as Eliott stroked his hair and calmed him down. 

He couldn't go through with it. Feelings aside, Lucas didn't deserve it. And he didn't deserve Lucas. 

God he was such a fucking cliche, falling for the guy way out of his league. The guy who would eventually go home and forget all about him and the few days they spent together while Eliott would hold onto the memories for the rest of his life. 

As he watched Lucas drive away that night, Elliot resolved to tell him everything. He may not deserve Lucas, but Lucas deserved the truth.

His phone chimes, as he starts walking away from the spot where the limo that had whisked the prince away was previously parked.

 

**Lucas**

You look beautiful when you laugh.  
22:14

 

Tomorrow, Eliott swears to himself.

He would tell him everything tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end is near.....  
> thank you for staying with this story until now. waking up to new comments and reading through all your kind words, there's nothing comparable, really and truly.  
> some notes:  
> the reference lucas makes to virginia wolff is from the block quote from the prev chapter when he's sifting through eliott's book collection  
> i wanted to touch on eliott's mi as it is an important part of his character, but i will not be going into too much depth on it bc i'm not very knowledgeable on the subject and i don't want to do any injustice with that regard  
> p.s. how DID lucas's dad know where he was? stay tuned lol


	5. day four + five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst ahead (and a good edit probably required)

_ "you're the only one that matters." _

* * *

 

samedi 11:25

 

The silence is the worst part, Lucas thinks.

He's been through it before. It's strangely reminiscent of the two other times his father has been this upset with him. The first, when he skipped his last exam during his final year of high school, and the second, when the king had to pay off his classmates to prevent them from leaking Lucas's compromising photos. 

It's always the same with his father. The cold, unfeeling stare, the flat emotionless voice that makes Lucas feel small while he gets scolded. He's become somewhat immune to it, or at the very least, impassive. If his father appears to be so unaffected, why the hell should he feel any different?

Except, this time it has to do with Eliott, not some impulsive decision to get high or involving a random student. Lucas knew his father would disapprove regardless, and truth be told he'd already came to terms with that.

But, as foolish as it was to hope, a small part of him, the foolish, hopeless trait that he couldn't get rid of, no matter how hard he tried, allowed himself to dream. To dream of a universe where him and Eliott would be able to walk hand in hand together wherever they wanted without worrying about who saw them. A Lucas from another world, who could proudly introduce a nervous Eliott to his parents who would accept the latter into their family wholeheartedly, without reservations. 

And then, he's back to his reality. The universe where he's sitting across his father, composed as always, but his mask falling with every passing minute. He's fuming, and it scares Lucas, just a little. 

They remain silent throughout the ride, likely because the king probably doesn't feel like giving the driver a show, and it's not until the pair step foot inside Lucas's suite at the hotel that his father goes in on him.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"I'm sorry," Lucas apologizes automatically, "But I swear, it's not what you think."

"Exactly what is it then? Because it looks to me like you and that boy have gotten fairly close during your time here." 

It's the way he says close, the heavy implications behind it, that confirms to Lucas that his father knows.

"You're right," Lucas admits, "We have gotten close," his father shakes his head at that, Lucas interjecting before he gets the chance speak again, "It's not like the last time though! Eliott, he's- he's different."

"Son," the king starts, frustration evident in his words, "I don't know how many times you'll have to go through the same thing to learn your lesson." 

"What-what are you talking about?" Lucas manages to stutter out. The king sighs, pulling out his phone and turning it towards Lucas. 

There's a bunch of photos on it from numerous places. The cafe where Eliott and him grabbed drinks together for the first time, Lucas sitting in the drivers seat of the car Eliott rented that they used to go to the nightclub while Eliott sat beside him. 

The most notable however, are the ones from tonight. Eliott and Lucas holding hands, the embrace Eliott comforted him with after Lucas's tearful confession on the tower, and a shot of his lips unmistakably pressed up against the taller man as they gazed at the view from the top together. 

His vision blurs and his mouth is suddenly parched. Sitting down on the bed at the head of his room, Lucas inhales, then an exhale, counting to ten in between both movements three times, a coping exercise that had helped him get over anxiety episodes like this in the past. Still shaken, he looks up at his father, who is eerily calm considering the circumstances. 

"Where did you get those?" Lucas demands, grabbing the phone from his father and swiping back and forth through the images, still in denial. His father pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly also trying to process what's going on. 

"They were sent to me by a friend of someone you claim to know so well." 

"You're wrong." Lucas interrupts without hesitation, "Eliott wouldn't do that."

"How can you be certain?"

"I just know it," he declares, "He isn't that kind of person."

"You've known this boy for less than a week. Do you even know his last name?"

Lucas falters at that. He's spent days on end with Eliott, more time than he spent actually doing what he was supposed to do on the trip, and he hadn't even bothered to get a last name from his companion. 

"It doesn't matter," Lucas says, standing up to face his father head on, "I don't need to know his last name to know that he would never do something like that. What we had was real, is real." he quickly amends.

The king softens, perhaps sensing the desperation radiating from Lucas's words in an attempt to persuade himself that what he was saying was true. He takes the phone back from Lucas, navigating back to the email message sent along with the photos and recites it out loud.

"You're son seems to have found something to do in his spare time while he's here in Paris. Or should I say, someone? My associate and I plan on selling these pictures to Le Terre* on the last day of his trip. That is, unless you can find something better to offer us. Ball's in your court," the king reads off the screen, looking up at Lucas to continue, "He doesn't hesitate to name drop his associate either, refers to him as the young man with you in the photos."

Lucas's heart drops, feels it fall to the pit of his stomach. His head is spinning, but at the same time, it all made sense. He didn't know who Eliott was, not really anyway, and like the idiot he was, he never bothered to ask. The way Eliott would dodge questions about his personal life, about his career, how he would tense up at every mention of the conditions under which they met. It was all manufactured, planned out and executed exactly how Eliott wanted it to appear, a miraculous coincidence, fate, unlike how artificial it actually was. Lucas played right into his trap, revealing secrets that the whole world would now inevitably know. Things he never dared to say aloud until Eliott was there to listen with what he thought was a judgement free mind. 

"Besides, what's your endgame here Lucas?" his father cuts through his mind spinning out of control, trying to come to terms with the information its been presented with, "What did you expect to gain from a relationship from this boy? Did you think the public would embrace him with open arms as your boyfriend? Or were you going to abdicate, leave behind your whole family, your friends, to pursue whatever barebones lifestyle this boy had to offer you in his second rate apartment?"

He's silent. What could he possibly say now?

"Lucas," his father begins, approaching him from the side and placing a hand on Lucas's shoulder, "I'm not the villain here. I'm only trying to tell you how this looks outside your rose tinted vision. This man is not good for you. He's not worth throwing your life away for, and the sooner you realize it, the better you'll be for it." he sighs, pursing his lips.

"Perhaps it was unwise of me to send you on this trip. I'm returning home on a flight in the morning, and once you wrap up with your final press conference on Friday, I want you to come back too." 

Squeezing his shoulder one last time, a surprisingly affectionate gesture from the usually stoic king, he heads out of the bedroom, pausing at the door and glancing back one final time.

"Son, I-" he wavers briefly, "I'm sorry you have to deal with this. Living the way we do, it's not possible. Please, try to understand and accept it. The sooner you do, the better off you'll be for it." the king finishes, proceeding to leave the room.

"What-" Lucas starts, gulping as he fights the tears he swears not to shed until his father has left the room, "What's his last name?" 

His father stills at the exit, halfway outside already. Maybe he's contemplating whether to turn around and console his son, whether it was worth the effort after countless instances of feigning ignorance in the past. Lucas doesn't know if he's disappointed or relieved when he simply says 'Demaury', leaving following a moment of hesitation without a second glance.

 

dimanche 02:29

 

He stopped trying to convince himself to fall asleep one hour ago. 

Armed with Eliott's full name, Lucas goes full on stalker mode, trying to decipher the man who had him so utterly and completely fooled. Countless Google searches with variations of his name and other keywords related to what little he did know about Eliott rendered nothing besides a credit on a university website with artwork he could only assume the older man created when he was still in school, a scatter of photos Lucas recognized from Eliott's wall display on the ninth page of search results.

It seems that Eliott Demaury was a mystery even to the internet. Go figure. 

His phone chimes, notification popping up at the top of the screen.

 

**Eliott**

I need to talk to you.  
03:44

 

Ignore it, he thinks.

Another chime.

 

**Eliott**

Can we meet later today?  
03:50

 

He doesn't answer, throws his phone against the wall, and goes to sleep.

 

dimanche 12:32

 

Surprisingly, the phone remains unmarred after Lucas lashed out on it hours earlier. Checking the time, he mumbles a quiet 'Shit' under his breath, registering how late it was. He was supposed to make an appearance at a tree planting event held for climate change awareness at the city centre this morning, another charitable charade followed up by an exclusive dinner in the evening catering to the upper class, where they could all pretend to care about the environment while simultaneously indulging their egos with like minded individuals. Business as usual, but business Lucas neglected during the past few days in favour of frolicking around Paris like a love struck idiot at the heels of a man who couldn't care less about him. 

He still has Eliott's shirt on, Lucas notes, wincing internally as he looks in the mirror before freshening up in the bathroom. He strips it off urgently, eager to be rid of any reminders of the previous days' events, stepping into the shower and scrubbing his skin raw as if it would accelerate the process. 

The mirror doesn't do him any favours, Lucas thinks as he steps out from the shower to gauge his appearance. The cameras and resulting photographs from the event will probably be even more unfavourable, he imagines. He stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, pale face and sunken eyes a dead giveaway for the lack of sleep he endured the night before. He can most likely catch the last hour or so of the event, attribute his late arrival to the fever he was supposedly recovering from. His absence at previous days' events would definitely corroborate his claim, and if it didn't his haggard appearance might do the trick. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, clothes from the previous night in tow, Lucas sorts through the suitcase discarded and forgotten in the corner of his suite for something appropriate. Casual, so he doesn't seem like an ass, but put together enough that he doesn't look as shitty as he feels. A knock on the door of his open room alerts him towards the source, a tentative Jules waiting for Lucas to acknowledge him.

"Yeah, Jules?"

"Right," Jules clears his throat awkwardly, "I didn't want to wake you, but we really should be leaving if we want to get to the event before it's over."

"I understand," Lucas replies, "Don't worry, I'm ready." he says, securing the sneakers he'd carefully picked out, ones that could afford to be tarnished while he planted trees in ankle deep mud and posed for the numerous media outlets who had been invited. Standing up, Lucas follows Jules through the hallway and to the elevator. 

Lucas can tell, Jules, who is usually a man of few words, is struggling with something he obviously wants to say. After one clearing of his throat and fiddling with his shirt collar too many, Lucas gives up on keeping up the pretense and confronts the man who he honestly considers a father more than his own.

"Jules," Lucas starts, "Come on. I know you want to say something. Just tell me."

"Your Highness?"

"I mean it," Lucas says, "What's going on?"

"Nothing-" Jules begins, stalling at Lucas's 'are you serious' face before sighing and resuming. 

"I want you to know," he says, "That I tried my best, to keep your father out of it."

"You knew?"

"Who do you think kept the bodyguards away?"

"Ah, right them." Lucas is surprised it hadn't occurred to him earlier. He had been wandering around so freely for the entirety of the trip, especially compared to the other stops of his tour.

"Anyway," Jules proceeds, "I caught a glimpse of you and that boy together. I don't think I've seen you that happy in a long time."

"I'm sorry," Lucas returns, swiftly changing subjects, "I know my father probably laid it on you, for letting it happen."

"No," Jules says, "I apologize, for not being more careful."

"It's fine," Lucas cuts in, "It doesn't matter. I'm over it."

"Of course." Jules responds carefully, keeping his tone level. It was obvious he didn't believe it, but Lucas is grateful that the conversation ends on that note, not really looking forward to having an in depth session with Jules of all people about his messed up feelings.

"Thanks Jules." 

The man gives Lucas a nod, exiting the elevator once they've reached the ground floor. Right after stepping foot onto the main floor, Jules' phone cuts through the comfortable quiet that had settled over them. He answers dutifully, an exchange of rushed whispers, starting off calm, escalating until Lucas can almost see the steam emanating from his ears.

"Your Highness," Jules starts after hanging up, notably aggravated, "There appears to be issues with the car, I'll have to go check on it."

"Okay, I'll wait over by the couches."

"Will you be okay on your own?"

"I think I'll survive Jules," Lucas retorts wryly, "I've managed to do so until now right?" 

"The security detail you've somehow escaped for the past few days would beg to differ." Jules almost teases knowingly.

"I'm still alive aren't I?" Lucas throws back jokingly.

"Yes," Jules admits, corners of his mouth lifting slightly, "That you are."

"Don't worry, I'll still be here," Lucas says, sitting down on one of the large, unoccupied couches placed in the center of the lobby, "No risk of runaway royalty this time." he promises.

Lucas watches his aide leave, exiting out the large glass doors of the hotel until he's left his line of vision. Using the opportunity to check his notifications, Lucas almost can't believe his eyes when he sees one indicating a text from his mom, which, judging from the preview, is nothing like the random out of context Bible quotes he's used to receiving from her.

 

**Mom**

Lucas, I found out from dad that you are unwell. The Lord listens to his people when they are in distress.  
13:45

 

He also told me that you'll be back sooner than anticipated. I can't wait to see you. Until then, I am praying for you, my son.  
13:46

 

So, his father decided to play it off as a fake illness. The thought of his mom getting the same treatment as the press, identical excuses that couldn't be further from the truth, makes him sick. Lucas can't deal with it on top of everything else and ignores them for the time being, shoving the phone back in his pocket and leaning his head against the back of the couch, arm resting over his eyes as he waits for Jules's to come back and get him.

"Lucas."

He hears the voice before he sees him, body turning rigid on reflex. It takes all his strength to not turn around. Instead, rubbing his eyes open, he stands up from the sofa and heads in the direction of the main entrance. At this rate, if Jules was still sorting out their transportation issue, he would go out and fix the vehicle himself should it mean not having to deal with Eliott.

"Lucas!" Eliott repeats, a little louder. He's determined to be heard, and Lucas doesn't doubt that he'll yell to get Lucas's attention, along with that of the current occupants of the hotel lobby. But, Lucas still tries to evade, until Eliott grabs his hand and twirls him around instead. 

"What are you doing?" Lucas hisses at him, keeping his voice hushed. Eliott, who has the audacity to look surprised, merely stares back. Agitated, Lucas drags the taller man to a private corner of the lobby, at a junction near a back exit and service staircase that looked fairly deserted. Lucas immediately lets go of Eliott's hand, taking on a defensive stance, clearly not conveying his state of mind towards the situation, because Eliott jumps at the chance to kiss him swiftly.

"Are you serious?" Lucas snaps incredulously, distancing himself from a now confused Eliott, crossing his arms and glaring.

"Lucas," Eliott begins cautiously, "Is everything okay?" 

"I don't know Eliott, it's hard to say at this point," Lucas almost sneers, "Things seem to be pretty okay for you though, considering you're probably about to get the biggest payday of your life within the next couple of days."

When the realization dawns on Eliott, the aftermath is comical. 

"You know," Eliott says ashamedly, hands shoving themselves in his pockets and eyes beginning to wander. 

"I know," Lucas confirms, "So drop the fucking act already."

Something in Eliott hardens, resolving to face Lucas head on, straightening his posture and standing firmer.

"It's not an act," he claims, causing Lucas to scoff, "Okay, maybe it was at first." 

"But," he continues, reaching out to grab Lucas's arm, grounding him to his spot, "You have to believe me when I said everything I told you, besides who I am, is the truth. All of it."

"Eliott, you know how ridiculous you sound right?" Lucas laughs in disbelief, "You lied to me! Don't you get it? Nothing else matters, because you're clearly not the person I thought you were." 

"Lucas, wait-"

"No, it's fine." Lucas says, shrugging Eliott's hand off his arm roughly, and turning to walk away, "You got what you needed, now leave me alone." 

"Let me explain." Eliott calls out, behind Lucas's retreating back.

"Explain?" Lucas stops, spins back to confront an Eliott who seems stunned to be acknowledged after his initial dismissal.

"No, don't bother," he rages, "I don't need an explanation to understand the bullshit you're trying to spin around this.

Taking a brief pause, wanting to know, but also scared to face the truth, Lucas asks shakily, "Did you, or did you not come up to me at the president's dinner because I was the subject of your next 'assignment'?" 

Eliott doesn't have to answer. The silence Lucas receives speaks volumes.

"So that's it then," Lucas concedes, "Guess it makes sense now, figures I'd be the one to fall for the same tricks all over again. But I bet it turned out great for you, knowing your plan would be a success after I basically confirmed it worked on me in the past."

"Lucas, I swear I-"

"Eliott," he says, almost trembling, "Stop. Okay? Please, leave me alone," Lucas pleads, tears threatening to spill, "You got what you wanted, for God's sake let me move on from this with some form of dignity."

"Would it be so bad," Eliott interrupts quietly, holding onto Lucas's hands now, "If the world knew?" 

In a perfect universe, Lucas number 37840 would clutch Eliott number 2560's hands tightly in his own and never let go.

In this universe, Lucas drops them immediately and returns Eliott's question with a glare.

"Are you serious right now?" Lucas says exasperatedly, "Clearly your boss didn't hire you for your listening skills, because if you paid attention to even one thing I said you would know that this is literally the last piece of information about myself that I want other people finding out!" 

It seems to do the trick. Eliott looks remorseful as soon as the words leave Lucas's mouth.

"You're right, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, just-" Lucas stops, gathering the remaining sliver of willpower remaining inside him, "Just go, okay?"

"Lucas," Eliott attempts, one more time, "I know what it looks like. Trust me I do, but you have to believe me when I say none of the pictures I took ended up going to my boss. I told him yesterday that I couldn't do it anymore, and I came here today to tell you everything."

"Of course you didn't use any photos you took yourself," Lucas explodes, pointing a finger accusingly into Eliott's chest to emphasize his point, "You needed ones that would paint the exact picture you wanted right? The closeted gay prince who couldn't keep it in his pants and jumped the first hot guy he met on his fucking charity tour!"

Lucas is sure if anyone was in their proximity they would hear everything. And yet, he can't bring himself to care, catching his breath before carrying on with his tirade. 

"You knew exactly what you were doing," he says, cutting off Eliott who looks like he's waiting for an opportunity to interject, "Honestly, I'm more impressed than mad. If anything I'm pissed off at myself for being the idiot who fell for it."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Eliott has the gall to inquire, as if he's clueless about it all, "There was no one else involved, the only pictures I took are on my phone."

"I can't deal with this right now," Lucas declares, not wanting further justification, or willing to hear anymore excuses, "You have my father's contact information, at least your boss does."

"Have a nice life, Eliott," he concludes, shoving past the other man outside, praying Jules is ready to go and Eliott doesn't get the chance to catch up, "I hope it was all worth it."

 

dimanche 17:19

 

"Your Highness, over here!"

"One more pose, next to the tree if you can!"

"Prince Lucas, what is your opinion on the monarchy's decision to support the Monacan government's move to disrupt the country's natural environment in favour of developing more resorts and manmade fixtures? Does your involvement in this event not contradict the decisions of your governing body as a whole?"

Lucas recalled fragments of the questions thrown at him in the media frenzy during and following the event. Some he answered with a simple fulfillment of the request, a turn of his head towards the photographer who called out for him, a squat near the last tree he had just planted and a gleaming smile directed at the camera. Some threw him off, like the more complicated ones about his relation to actions taken on behalf of the monarchy and in conjunction with the ruling legislative party. These were, for the most part, often intercepted by Jules who brushed them off with a 'no comment' or a diplomatic version of what Lucas would have probably said anyway. 

From an outsider's perspective, Lucas was thriving. After recovering from his ailment, the young prince had jumped head first into charity work, enthusiastically putting himself front and center at the efforts, unafraid to get dirty in the process. The tree planting persisted well into the afternoon, and despite showing up almost two hours late for the event, Lucas had dug away, planting seedlings into the foundations of the concrete surrounded grass patches of city hall. Hardly cause for celebrations, given that a dozen or so trees would barely make an impact when put against faceless corporations and world leaders at the helm of the climate change denial movement. However, it was good press, and as Lucas learned the hard way, appearances were everything. 

Putting on a content face, laughing when necessary, customary nods and the correct way to talk to important people. These were all principles he'd been taught at a young age, perfected throughout years of tribulation, childhood, his time as a teenager and now young adult. It was a craft, and Lucas was good at it, great even. He wouldn't give cause for his father to be disappointed in him now. 

Pretenses, though, came with a price, and that price weighed on Lucas heavily as he proceeded to collapse in the car en route back to his hotel. Back to following a structured agenda, contrary to the past few days, he would shower, get into another pre-approved suit, dry cleaned and pressed for him by the housekeeping staff, and finish his last night in Paris the way it all started. At a party, with people he didn't like, and as someone he never really was.

Eliott had left two voicemails, both of which he deleted without hesitation, and several text messages he deliberately ignored. Lucas was no closer to hearing the other man out than he was this morning, but the consistent forms of contact forced him to recall the last words Eliott had tried to tell him prior to Lucas storming away from their confrontation, albeit begrudgingly. He claimed to have nothing to do with the photos sent to Lucas's father, but what bothered Lucas, what gave him that last shred of hope to hang onto, was the fact that Eliott never outright denied any involvement. If he had sworn to being completely ignorant of the situation, Lucas may very well have believed him. But, he didn't. Eliott admitted to the pictures he did take, outside of the ones intercepted by the king, ones that Lucas would never have known existed had Eliott not revealed their tangibility himself. Maybe he was being honest, owning up to his mistake, and sincerely asking for Lucas's forgiveness. 

He was probably lying. _But what if he wasn't?_

The possibility nags at him, from the shower all the way down to the limo he eases into the back of, left alone by Jules who opted to continue his conversation with the driver from the passenger seat. The divider was kept down, as per Lucas's request, as the remnants of sunlight seeping through the front window and trickle of voices from the two men chattering away kept the environment more lively than it would be in the tinted dark of the backseat otherwise. The texts from his mom continue to nudge his conscious, prompting him to pull out his phone and stare at the screen for what might have been the tenth time that day.

 

**Mom**

Lucas, I found out from dad that you are unwell. The Lord listens to his people when they are in distress.  
13:45

 

He also told me that you'll be back sooner than anticipated. I can't wait to see you. Until then, I am praying for you, my son.  
13:46

 

He can't do it anymore, Lucas realizes. After years that felt like lifetimes of repressing, hiding, it was too much. There was no better time than now to let her know the truth, and at least this way he wouldn't have to deal with her heartbroken expression in person.

 

**Mom**

Mom, I'm gay. I'm sorry if this hurts you or makes you feel sad. I'll come see you as soon as I return. Love you.  
18:14

 

When the message sends, he doesn't expect the immediate response. Lucas places the phone screen down on the vacant seat beside him, shoving his face into his palms right after. Startled by the buzz that emerges almost instantly after he'd come to terms with the fact that the already fragile mother-son relationship was gone forever, he jumps a little at the sound. Fumbling for his phone, he unlocks it and clicks on the icon for messages right away. Like ripping off a band-aid, all the pain contained to one second eventually ebbing away.

 

**Mom**

My son, I have loved you since the day you were born and I will love you until the day you die.  
18:15

 

Know that I am proud of you, always.  
  
And yes, I'll see you when you're back.  
18:16

 

And suddenly, the memory of a mother who told him stories about stars as they traced clusters of constellations, swinging back and forth into the night washes over him, and Lucas feels more loved and thankful than in every possible scenario he pictured occurring in this moment. How could he have ever doubted her?

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" 

Jules' concerned voice rouses Lucas out of his daze, allowing him to feel the wetness on his cheeks and the quiver of his chin. His aide is looking at him from the rear view mirror, pausing his chat about the horrid driving conditions of downtown Paris with the driver to check in. Hastily, Lucas wipes at the tears, sniffing away remnants of his emotions that had emerged without him noticing.

"I'm fine." Lucas assured Jules, maybe even himself, the former seemingly satisfied with the response and resuming his conversation.

Glancing back at his screen, he sees the other messages from Eliott, the ones he'd rebuked without a second thought, and feels the inherent need to acknowledge them. Even if he was angry, at Eliott, at his circumstances, at himself, a small part of him wanted to hear Eliott out, especially after the conversation with his mom took a very different turn from what he expected. 

And yet, Lucas can't bring himself to read them. It's irrational, dumb even, but some part of him wants to preserve their time together as a fond bundle of memories stored in the confines of his mind, easily accessible and untainted with the revelations he'd been privy to during the last few hours. The finality associated with the truth, the closure or lack thereof from addressing the texts that he won't be able to take back. If the messages confirm what he had feared all along, he knows he won't be able to handle it. 

Precariously, then determined, Lucas deletes the texts, breathing a sigh of relief when they disappear.

He can't control the past, but he can guide the course of his future. The thought brings him comfort, gives him the strength to thumb out a response to Eliott, a thinly veiled thank you with the definitiveness of a farewell. Whatever Eliott had said, whether he warranted a chance at an explanation or not, Lucas, and his heart, were entitled to a conclusion.

 

**Eliott**

 

Eliott, I hope you find what you are looking for. It's funny, I didn't even think about asking for your last name until my father told me it. Demaury suits you.  
18:58

 

I wasn't lying when I said you should go for it, the art show I mean.

Anyway, be happy. And regardless of how things turned out, I want you to know I would do it all over again. Even if it was all fake, it was the realest I've ever felt my whole life.   
19:00

 

 _Three, two, one_ , Lucas counts backwards. Lets out a shaky exhale, repeats the numbers, this time in reverse.

_One, two, three._

Shoving the phone and any residual thoughts of Eliott to the back of his mind, Lucas steps outside the car and ascends the grand staircase leading inside the venue.

He's not better, but for a second he can breathe again.

 

* * *

 

dimanche 20:14

 

Eliott spots him right away.

He could find Lucas in a crowd of a hundred people, and it's no different now, at the party full of aristocrats and high ranking government officials. He pinpoints him, clad in a simple charcoal suit, hair relatively tame compared to its disheveled state during the carefree time they spent at Eliott's apartment together. The boy who made him rethink everything he previously believed to be true, who propelled him to think twice about the decisions that he'd made in the past without a second thought, was smiling politely at an ensemble of patrons he looked to be completely engrossed in conversation with.

Except, Eliott knows Lucas. It may only have been for a few days, but he can tell the difference between a genuinely happy Lucas and Lucas posing for an audience the way they wanted him to.

When Eliott informed his boss that he wanted out, the latter acquiesced as if he was expecting it, which, to be fair, should've been the first red flag. It was obvious that the sleazy man wouldn't let him, or the story he'd been pushing Eliott to pursue for so long, go that easily. It didn't occur to him, consumed with thoughts consisting solely of Lucas and how he would react to his confession, that his boss had a backup plan ready in case Eliott flopped. And what a back up plan it was. 

The pictures taken by one of Eliott's colleagues, another freelancer that he worked with in the past, more shameless than him if that was possible, somehow managed to stealthily take pictures of the duo during the nights Lucas and him spent together. While the pair carelessly wandered the streets of Paris as if it belonged to only them, they were being trailed from the shadows, documented and tracked meticulously, the resulting evidence indisputable. There was no denying that the person in the photos was Lucas Lallemant, or the fact that he'd neglected his royal duties for the sake of roaming around Paris with a man he was clearly intimate with.

The conversation that followed was both exhilarating and long overdue. Eliott quit on the spot, whatever pseudo contract he'd agreed on with his employer effectively void and any prospect of future collaborations eliminated. He made sure to sever any remaining ties or good will that they may have fostered, letting his boss know exactly what he thought of him, plus some necessary, and not so necessary choice words more for himself than anything else. 

After getting ignored for the majority of the day, rightfully so but just as frustrating, the aloof responses from Lucas only served to make him more restless. The younger man sent back a generic reply, almost as if he didn't bother reading the apologetic texts or listening to the lengthy voicemails he left him. And while Eliott didn't blame him, as unfair as it was, he needed Lucas to listen to his side of the story. To know that what transpired between them hadn't meant nothing, definitely not to him, and if he wouldn't answer his phone, Eliott would simply have to find the prince the old fashioned way.

He adjusts his tie, balancing a tray of half filled champagne flutes, focused on Lucas as he interacts with the other attendees. Subsequent to a brief stint as a host at a local cafe during his undergraduate years at university, he'd donned a waiter's uniform only twice in his whole life, both times to approach Lucas, reasons differing but intentions alike.  He recognizes the irony behind the situation, almost replicating his first interaction with Lucas mere days earlier. Except this time, it may very well be their last. 

In the midst of scouting the hall, skirting around the prince, and keeping his distance until the right moment, Eliott notices Lucas excusing himself from a group of particularly stuffy looking individuals. The younger man makes a beeline for the service exit, one Eliott happens to know is detached, far from the ongoing party, likely to be flooded with the rest of the staff milling around the venue much later into the night once their presence was no longer required.

It's so reminiscent of their initial meeting, Eliott nearly pinches himself to make sure he's not going through some weird out of body experience transporting him to the past. He sets down the serving platter of glasses on a nearby spread of appetizers as he braced himself for the worst, following close behind the prince, pushing past the doors leading outside, and coming face to face with a startled Lucas, eyes agape and mouth slightly hanging open.

Whereas the first time was filled with promise, this time the air is thick, unspoken accusations and doubt hanging heavy. Resolve filling him anew, Eliott surges forward until Lucas looks like he'll sink into the wall he's leaning against.

"I need to talk you," Eliott says determinedly, "Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *La Terre is not an actual newspaper, Le Monde, however, is lol
> 
> this chapter really made me realize my limitations as a writer. this is the first time i'm writing something with an actual plot/direction, and i was about to give up halfway through because i hated everything, but its so close to the end that i just want to wrap up the story and move on from it.
> 
> i am frustration with season 4, need my maghrib equivalent to come through asapppp
> 
> take a shot every time someone is 'surprised' lol
> 
> and also, i realize Lucas gave in pretty easily and forgave eliott within the span of less than a day. however, this story has always been fast paced, spaced out over a few days, and the highs and lows lucas goes through are meant to be seen as this whirlwind sort of journey that happens all at once. he still doesn't know the full story, as seen by how he deleted eliott's correspondence attempts, so i hope the last chapter will solidify the way i went about making this play out and overall provide a good amount of closure


	6. day five + six

_ "i'm never not thinking of you." _

* * *

 

 

dimanche 20:36

 

Of all the things that could have happened tonight, this was the absolute last Lucas anticipated coming. 

"Eliott- What-" he manages to stammer out, "What are you doing here?"

Eliott, dressed in waiter garb identical to his uniform the day they met, stood in front of him, demeanour wild and ever so slightly out of breath. He approached Lucas closer, leaning against the wall the prince was propped up against.

"I figured if you wouldn't talk to me, I was better off finding you."

"But how did you know where I was?"

"Like the first time?" 

"Oh."

"Yeah," Eliott starts, "Listen Lucas, I-"

"No," Lucas interrupts, "It's okay. Really, you don't have to explain." 

"I know," the taller man leaned into the wall further, lowering himself to Lucas's height until they were inches apart,  "But I do."

Lucas hesitates, "It's late, let's just- Let's forget it. It's my last night here, we don't have to rehash things right now."

"Then when?"

"Never?" he responds exasperatedly, "I'm not sure what you want from me Eliott. Not after everything that's happened."

"A chance," Eliott compromises, holding up his index finger, "One chance, and then you never have to hear from me again. I swear."

"Fine."

"You have to know," Eliott says, placing his hands on Lucas shoulders, "I never thought things would turn out this way."

"Then what exactly did you expect?" 

"Okay," Eliott lets out a shaky exhale, "I-" he falters, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I don't know." 

"But what I do know is that I didn't expect this," he declares, with so much conviction, "I've never felt this way before."

"Me neither." Lucas admits after a beat, staring at his shoes, refusing to look Eliott in the eye post confession.

It's silent for a minute, neither knowing what to say. The party carries on back inside, another world entirely separate from the bubble formed around the pair. Drunken chatter and the clang of silverware barely registers in Lucas's head. The quiet quickly turns awkward, Lucas's eyes flitting around, unable to focus on anything, especially not the man in front of him.

"Well," Lucas says, unable to withstand it any longer, already starting to walk away, "Good night, Eliott."

"Wait," Eliott calls out, grasping Lucas's hand before he left completely, "It's your last night," he starts, a question he already knows the answer to, "The night's young, so are we." The preface to the invitation is identical to the one Eliott extended the night they met, "You wanna get out of here?"

Lucas remains wordless, staring at their conjoined hands, willing himself to pull away. He blames Eliott's secure grasp, attributing it as the reason why he can't let go. But Lucas knows, at the back of his mind, that if he really wanted to, he could let go, and Eliott wouldn't stop him.

Instead, he says, "Why now?"

"I'm sorry," Eliott blurts out suddenly, "I- I just realized, I never said I'm sorry. And that should've been the first thing I said."

"Those pictures were taken by one of the other freelance photographers I worked with. Anything I took never left my camera roll. Not when I took them, and not now." 

"I believe you."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, I do," Lucas sighs, "Even though I shouldn't-"

"I wouldn't blame you."

"But I do." Lucas says, surprised to find that he actually does.

"So," Eliott implores, "What do you say?"

"Jules, my dad, all- all those people in there," Lucas lists off, "They'll notice I'm gone."

"Lucas, respectfully, I don't care. I'm not asking about them," Eliott says gently, grabbing Lucas's other hand, "What do you want to do?"

_Had anyone ever asked him that before?_

"It's not that easy."

"But what if it was?" Eliott challenges him, "Say it was. What do you want, Lucas?"

"I-" Lucas stalls, staring helplessly at Eliott, hoping his eyes convey what he can't bring himself to say aloud.

_I want to. Of course I do. There's nothing else I want more, nothing else I've ever wanted more-_

"Tell me you don't want this," Eliott whispers, interrupting Lucas's internal turmoil, "Tell me, and I'll leave right now. You can go back to your party, and we can pretend none of this ever happened."

"You know I can't do that."

"Why?" Eliott pushes, tilting Lucas's chin up with his fingers, forcing eye contact that the latter can't escape from. 

"Because it's not true." 

With his admission, Lucas imparts a silent acceptance. One that he relays by returning the smile erupting on Eliott's face, he solidifies in the way he follows the other man's lead around the venue, gingerly descending the stairs, forgetting anyone and everyone else besides the man Lucas knows he only met a few days ago, but feels like he's known forever. 

Eliott pauses abruptly at the bottom of the staircase, looking at Lucas sheepishly.

"I-" Eliott rubs the back of his neck, letting out a nervous laugh, still clasping Lucas's hand in his free one, "I forgot I took the bus here."

"You couldn't remember that before we made a big deal running out of there?"

"Hey," Eliott says defensively, "Romantic gestures aren't premeditated."

"Really?" Lucas snorts, "Because from what I've seen, preplanned gestures seem right up your alley."

Eliott stills, letting go of Lucas's hands and twirls the younger man so they were face to face. The lack of contact doesn't last long, as Eliott immediately cradles Lucas from each side of his head.

"Hey," he starts carefully, smoothing back the hair that fell in front of the prince's face, "I meant every word I said before. All of it."

And Lucas knows he shouldn't trust him. He knows, with the part of his brain still functioning as it should, that it was stupid and impossibly naive after everything he's gone through, after everything Eliott put him through, to put any ounce of faith in the other man. He knows, and yet, Lucas trusts him anyway.

"I know," Lucas breathes out, "I know." he repeats. The prince can feel the tears as they surface, threatening to spill out, a stray managing to leak out of his eye and cascade down his reddened cheek. Eliott takes the chance to brush away the tear with a trembling thumb, gently kissing the spot where it previously fell. 

Still framing Lucas's face in his hands, Eliott looks at him intently, gauging his expression, treading carefully. 

"You still want to leave?"

"Are we taking the bus?"

"Last chance to slum it with the peasant street boy." Eliott jokes, hints of uncertainty evident in the lines of his face and how his shoulders tense. 

 _As if he gave him a choice_ , Lucas thinks to himself. Hopelessly, fondly.

"Wouldn't have it any other way." 

 

 

dimanche 23:54

 

The tension, tension that had been festering, building upon itself since the beginning of the night, maybe even long before then, thickened as they waited for the elevator to arrive. Every movement away from the vicinity of the party was hesitant. Lucas had let go of Eliott's hand on the bus, pure reflex activating upon sight of strangers seated under the bright fluorescent lights bordering the ceiling of the vehicle. He ached to reach out for it again, but settled for accidental brushes as they sat next to each other at the back.

And now, with the lobby empty, but susceptible to the odd straggling tenant or watchman usually positioned at the entrance, they maintained a respectable amount of distance between each other.

The elevator arrives with a resounding ding, both making their way inside where Eliott jams the button to his floor with an unnecessary amount of force as Lucas slumps into the corner behind Eliott, unsure of where to look, what to do. Then, as soon as the doors shut, Eliott's on him.

Lucas wasn't cold by any means. The night was characteristically warm for June, and he felt perfectly at ease. That is, until Eliott trapped Lucas's body between his own and the elevator wall.

And all of a sudden, he was cold. He was cold, and Eliott was burning. Burning the imprint of his fingers into Lucas's face as they caressed his cheeks, his hands on Lucas's waist forcing their bodies together with a friction that made him both nervous and aroused, pillowy lips tracing out a fiery pattern on Lucas's own.

The elevator chimes, signalling their arrival and startling them apart. Lucas lets go of Eliott regretfully as they step outside and walk towards Eliott's apartment, Eliott unlocking his door and pushing his way inside, immediately returning his attention back to Lucas's mouth as they enter. Lucas tugs off his suit jacket, throwing it somewhere between the living room and the hallway leading to it, then loosening his tie, Eliott following his lead and doing the same. Eliott shifts so Lucas is up against the wall adjacent to the door, knocking into a pair of Eliott's sneakers lined along the edge, braced by the other man's arm against the surface as he grabs on tight. 

Eliott pauses to let Lucas catch his breath, peppering his neck with open mouthed kisses, biting gently at the base of his collarbone and immediately blowing at the mark. A mark that Lucas would need to conceal well after his return home with variations of sweaters and high collared dress shirts. He directs his hands to Eliott's hair pulling at the strands to lift his head up, guiding it back to his lips where they clashed once more.

It was violent, all over the place. Lucas poured all the frustration he had accumulated inside himself within the span of the kiss, lifting himself so that his legs wrapped around Eliott's waist. He opened his mouth easily, clutching at Eliott wherever his hands could latch on. Anything to bring the older man closer, to keep him there. Eliott moves his own hands, skimming the bottom of Lucas's shirt, the prince gasping as Eliott's fingers grazed the space where the hem of his shirt had ridden up. Eliott takes advantage of the movement, plunging further inside his mouth, releasing with a sharp, but quick of graze his teeth against Lucas's lower lip. 

"I don't want to say goodbye." Lucas whimpers into Eliott's chest, lowering his legs back to the ground and pressing up against the taller man. Eliott pulls back, hands encircling Lucas's waist as he lifts one to brush away the tears accumulating in the other's eyes.

"Then don't."

 

 

lundi 02:43

 

Lucas can't sleep.

Eliott and him had collapsed on the former's bed earlier on, thoroughly exhausted. After a brief moment where he dozed off, Lucas woke up to darkness and a slumbering Eliott turned over on his stomach beside him, arm draped across Lucas's torso, tangled in between the covers the other man placed on top of them. Carefully, Lucas picks up Eliott's arm, making sure he didn't wake, and finds himself gravitating to the balcony where they shared a joint together earlier during the week. 

He should be more frantic, he realizes. The repercussions of his choices within the past few hours wouldn't go by unnoticed, not by the public and certainly not by his family. Before, he might have been debating between which was worse. But right now, gazing at the smattering of stars littering the night sky, the night breeze fresh against his exposed skin, he's at peace. 

Maybe, he thinks, he didn't need the big house surrounded by flowers and water after all. Perhaps, no, Lucas was sure, that he would now dream of sparsely furnished apartments, balconies with metal railings and the scent of weed lingering in the air.

"Penny for your thoughts?" a voice calls out from behind him, arms from someone Lucas would recognize even in his lethargic, half asleep condition snaking around him and settling comfortably. 

"Try harder."

"How about a kiss?" Eliott suggests, turning Lucas around and fulfilling his counteroffer.

"I would have done it for free." Lucas laughs against Eliott's lips, to which the latter flicks his ear playfully. The prince scrunches his nose at the action, flipping him off breezily as he turns his back.

"Do you see that one?" Lucas asks, pointing at a star burning relatively brighter than the ones neighbouring it.

"Polaris." Eliott mumbles into the crook of Lucas's shoulder, pressing a soft kiss on the same spot. 

"You know the story?" Lucas inquires, leaning his head back against Eliott, "About the north star?"

"Didn't people use it for navigation pre-GPS?"

"Haha," Lucas deadpans, "I meant the origin myth, not the practical one."

"Enlighten me."

"To be honest," Lucas admits, "I have no idea. My mom told me it once, something about a bear I think. 

"Then why would you bring it up?"

"I thought you might know!" Lucas says defensively, "Besides, isn't it kind of nice? That no matter where we are, no matter what we're doing, we're all looking at the same star as everyone else? It makes the world feel less daunting."

"Sure," Eliott agrees, "Still not sure what that has to do with bears."

"The bears are a metaphor." 

"For what?"

"You're unbearable." Lucas grumbles, Eliott chuckling in response.

"Wrong literary device."

"Shut up."

 

 

lundi 10:19

 

"Rise and shine." 

Lucas wakes up to Eliott behind a camera, eye fixated to the view finder as the shutter sounds off, peering up once he's captured the shot. He can only imagine what he looks like right now, disoriented from the sudden flash of sunlight penetrating his vision, hair sticking out in all directions, the pale sliver of his torso not hidden by the duvet. 

"Am I going to see that on the internet?" Lucas asks half jokingly, rubbing his eyes.

"Nope," Eliott states firmly, lowering the camera, "This one's just for me."

Eliott gets out of his seated position on bed, lying down and kissing Lucas's lips softly. Then his forehead, his cheeks, the base of his collarbone. He kisses him until they're too tired to continue, Lucas curling onto his side and pressing his back into Eliott's strong, sturdy chest.

"I'm going to submit my work for the art show."

"That's really great Eliott," Lucas says encouragingly, leaning his head back a little to flash the other man a smile, one he receives eagerly with a kiss on Lucas's nose, "I'm so happy for you."

"I also quit my job," Eliott says, "If you didn't figure it out already."

"I hoped so," Lucas confesses, "But I didn't want to assume."

"It's all because of you," Eliott murmurs, "Before meeting you, I never would have considered it."

"Glad I could be a positive influence."

"Seems like I had the opposite effect on you," Eliott retaliates, "Leaving parties midway, absences, the monarchy's probably scandalized."

"Maybe," Lucas agrees, "But as usual, if Dad has any say in the matter, it'll go away eventually."

"I still can't get used to that," Eliott says, "You calling the King 'Dad'." he clarifies.

"He doesn't exactly exude father material," Lucas replies, snuggling in closer, "But his intentions have been good, even if they're mostly for his own sake."

"You're a good person, Lucas Lallemant," Lucas snorts in response, causing Eliott to insist further, "I'm serious!"

"You are too." Lucas counters.

"That, is something I can deny with confidence."

"Eliott, I-" Lucas begins, turning to face Eliott head on, "It took me twenty one years to admit out loud something I knew was true my whole life. And without you, I was ready to deny it for the rest of my existence."

"Only a good person is capable of that. And that's what you are Eliott Demaury," he proclaims decisively, cradling Eliott's face between his palms, "A good person."

"Just good?" Eliott teases, even though he can feel his heart swell at Lucas's words. Lucas rolls his eyes, looping his arms around Eliott's neck.

"Fine, you're great. Amazing, hot, spectacular, inspiring-" Eliott cuts him off with a searing kiss.

"You think I'm hot?"

"Good to know what compliment affected you the most. Speaks volumes about your character." Lucas jokes, Eliott's laugh boisterous before he attacks Lucas with more kisses, ignoring the prince's claims of morning breath with a 'I probably have it too' effectively quieting the other man.

"So," Eliott trails off after they've cooled down, arms wrapped loosely around Lucas's waist as the latter returns to his previous position, fingertips tracing soothing patterns along the line of his spine, "What next?"

"Hm?"

"I mean," Eliott elaborates, "What comes after this?"

"I leave today."

"And that's it?"

"I don't know."

The words long distance, relationship, boyfriends, linger unspoken in the air.

"I can't," Lucas lets out helplessly, "I'm sorry."

"I know." 

A pause.

"In this universe, if we met differently," Lucas starts, lightly tracing the vein on Eliott's forearm, "If I was just a normal student and you were the upper year I met in our high school's common room..." he musters up the courage before continuing. "Would- did we ever have a chance, really?"

Eliott stills, arms tightening and head lowering so that his lips grazed the other's ear. "Honestly?" Eliott whispers, shifting to press a small kiss in between his bare shoulder blades, "I don't know."

"But," he continues, "I wish we did."

"God, you have no idea how much I wish we did."

 

 

lundi 14:11 

 

"I could just wear my own, you know." Lucas says, changing into his suit from last night, borrowing one of Eliott's button downs to wear underneath. The prince had insisted on reusing his own dress shirt, only for Elliot to dismiss the idea, deeming Lucas's clothing from last night not at all presentable, especially for a press conference of such large scale. 

"I have two of your shirts now," Lucas reminds Eliott, referencing the t-shirt laying somewhere in a suitcase back at the hotel, "Do you want me to ship them back?" he inquires, partially serious.

"You keep them," Eliott shrugs easily, "I'll keep this one too." he compromises, indicating to Lucas's shirt strewn on the nightstand with a tilt of his head.

"Will it even fit you?"

"I'll make it work," Eliott waggles his eyebrows, "Any doubt?"

"Just one," Lucas says, "Regarding the state of your elementary school education. Isn't that when you learn to recognize different sizes and shapes?"

"Oh, you've got jokes huh?" Eliott retorts, approaching Lucas, "Guess How to Be a Prince 101 covers more material than I thought." Lucas laughs at Eliott's reference to the ongoing joke established during their first meeting. 

"All part of the job." Lucas says, placing his hands inside the back pockets of Eliott's jeans.

"Is that right?" Eliott mumbles, eyes drifting to Lucas's lips. The shorter man responds by tilting his head up to join Eliott's in a heady kiss, languid and relaxed, as if there's nowhere else he has to be, definitely nowhere else he would rather be. Except, 

"Time to go." Lucas breaks the kiss reluctantly, glancing at his watch whose hands indicate the scheduled conference is nearing in its start.

"Right," Eliott replies, slightly flushed, making Lucas beam from the knowledge that he was the cause of it, "You need a ride?" he asks humourously, as they step outside the apartment and to the elevator.

"What, my escort only lasts until the main floor?" Lucas mocks without any real malice. Eliott's reaches out with his hand, grasping Lucas's and interlacing their fingers gently.

"Only if you want it to." 

"A ride sounds good," Lucas says, squeezing Eliott's hand in his own, "Lead the way."

Eliott takes them outside from the back door where an open parking lot with numerous vehicles were dispersed. Among the variety of cars, ranging from luxury to modest, a rugged motorcycle stood out, sandwiched between a Civic and a vacant parking space. Eliott stops in front him, prompting Lucas who followed at his heels to almost crash into the other man's back.

"This," Eliott gestures exaggeratedly in a sweeping motion at the bike, "Is my actual ride."

"You serious?"

Eliott nods cheekily, securing the helmet hanging off the handlebars on his head and extending out the spare to Lucas.

"You're telling me," Lucas says crossing his arms in disbelief, "You had this at your disposal all along and still made me drive a rental car, and ride your friend's bike?"

"Yeah, well," Eliott shrugs nonchalantly, "You getting on or what?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"You always have a choice, Lucas," Eliott says solemnly, "Except right now. Unless you want to walk to the press conference." he adds on teasingly.

"I think I'll take my chances with the bike," Lucas replies sardonically, tone lightening as he requests, "Can we stop by the hotel first?" 

 

 

lundi 15:49

 

"We're here."

Lucas rouses out of his daydream. At some point, arms wrapped securely around Eliott, head resting against his leather clad back (trust Eliott to value aesthetics over comfort, despite the sweltering heat of June), Lucas had zoned out. He had felt the air as it rushed around past him, through him, as the bike sped up and slowed down, around twisted streets and sharp corners leading to the press conference venue. The pinpricks of sweat dabbing underneath unexposed skin, constrained by constant movement, the warmth radiating from Eliott's jacket seeping through his cheek, unbearably hot and simultaneously comforting. It lulled him into trance, Eliott's voice breaking through the nothingness and bringing him back to the reality he didn't want to acknowledge. 

This was it.

Lucas gets off the motorcycle first, Eliott following suit once he propped up the kickstand. The venue is in sight, far away enough so that Lucas could pretend he was with his royal escort all along and not on the back of Eliott's bike. Lucas removes his helmet, perching it on the seat of the bike. Eliott does the same, taking off his own headgear, gaze stuck on the top of Lucas's head. The prince looks at him curiously, Eliott shaking his head fondly at the question in Lucas's eyes as he flattens out upward sticking strands of helmet hair unkempt by the gel he'd borrowed from the other man.

"So," Eliott echoes Lucas's thoughts as if he could read his mind, hands lowering to grab his helmet with both, "I guess this is where I leave you."

_You can't._

"You don't have to," Lucas says abruptly, "It looks like the press is all inside anyway. Walk me there?"

"Demands on demands," Eliott tsks, "I'm guessing I don't get a say in the matter?" he prods teasingly, already starting to follow Lucas as the prince uses the signed placards situated around the venue to guide them inside.

"There's always room for a choice, Eliott." Lucas parrots the other man's words from before, grinning while Eliott scoffs at the use of his own words against him.

The venue is vast, split into banquet halls and smaller rooms for more intimate parties. Lucas's press conference is located at the tail end of the hallway. They meander, neither wanting to part from one another, but aware that they would have to sooner than later. As sounds amplify, the chatter of reporters and experimental flashes of DSLRs going off, Lucas halts. 

This is not how he wanted to remember his time with Eliott, walking at a measured distance from one another, uncomfortable, in silence. 

"Eliott, I-" he begins, sighing in frustration before tugging the taller man by the hand towards an enclave sheltered away from any audience that may chance upon them. 

"Lucas," Eliott gets out in his stunned state, back positioned against the wall as Lucas looks at him determinedly, "Is everything okay?"

He doesn't answer with words. Instead, he chooses to lunge at Eliott. A final kiss, one for his memories, one for his sanity, one serving as a farewell. 

Five perfect nights and six perfect days, in spite of misunderstandings and hurdles aplenty. 

He's not okay. Of course he's not okay. He wants more. In another life, as a different person, in his mind, there's infinite Eliotts and Lucases together, happy, living full lives. It's unfair that it's his universe where it was impossible. 

"I have to go." Lucas whispers regretfully as he forces himself to pull back.

"Of course." Eliott says, just as dazed.

Lucas turns around, not strong enough to look at Eliott as he walked away, away from Eliott, back to his life, personifying itself in a swarm of media and a frantic looking Jules who gently pulls him to the side as he spots the prince entering the hall. 

"Jules I'm so sorr-"

"Your Highness, please," Jules interrupts him, "It's fine. We can discuss your whereabouts later. Right now, I've been instructed by your father to provide you with guidelines on how to answer some questions we've determined are likely to be asked." 

And so, Lucas listens to Jules' briefing, retaining key words and general sentiments, committing them to memory and praying he won't ramble unnecessarily. Upon announcement of his arrival, he's ready to take his place on the center podium. Adjusting to the flashes, he nods at the moderator, who in turn commences intercepting questions from the crowd of individuals eager for their next big story.

"Your Highness," the first starts, "Rumours have been running rampant about your absences during certain events of your Paris stay, how not all of them have to do with an illness. In fact, some of them go so far as to indicate that they were due to another man, one with whom your relationship wasn't exactly platonic," the reporter says almost smugly, "Would you care to comment on this?"

 _Great start._ Lucas looks towards Jules, who gives him a reassuring thumbs up. This was a query he was directed to deflect with a generic, but firm negation of any accusations.

"I can reassure you, with the utmost certainty, that all my absences were warranted for reasons I cannot disclose at this time," Lucas says, willing his voice to steady itself. He pauses, knowing the next words he intended to offer were expressly not advised.

He says them anyway.

"And to address your other 'concern'," he continues, unable to prevent the cadence of the final word from sounding bitter, "I would hope that you judge me based on my capabilities rather than one facet of my personal life."

The reporter looks disgruntled, disappointed at the reserved reaction from the prince and subject to disapproving glances from his colleagues.

"We hear that you are cutting your trip short," another pipes up, "Some three to four stops early. Is there any particular reason for this?"

_The PR team clearly did their research._

"It is my opinion," Lucas prefaces cautiously, "That there's only so much one can do within a short time frame, much like the mere days I was given during stops on this particular tour. I feel it is more beneficial for me to apply myself towards areas of concerns regarding my country in itself, rather than make appearances for the sake of vanity elsewhere."

His vision drifts, a figure entering the room and catching his eye. 

Eliott. 

He's stopped midway on the path separating the two clusters of reporters from each other. His gaze hasn't left Lucas's since he came in, and Lucas only has to glance at Eliott once before he can't tear his own away.

"Is there anything that you have learned in particular from this tour you feel can be implemented in your rule as the incoming monarch once appointed?"

He wasn't prepped for this one. Panicked, Lucas fiddles with his thumbs, goosebumps erupting across his skin, scanning the room with uncertainty.

Then, he lands on Eliott, smiling at him encouragingly, and Lucas knows exactly what to say.

"The value of life," Lucas answers simply, "Deriving meaning from small miracles rather than grand revelations."

"I've come to realize, living life for myself is not inherently selfish. In fact, I plan on living life with confidence, one that I can proudly say is my own, and rather than hindering my ability to rule, I believe that it will only make me a better leader," he adds on, "When the time comes."

Satisfied, Eliott flashes a grin at Lucas, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes, but graces his features nonetheless, and turns around, intending to exit the hall.

 

 

Now (again):

 

"Which of the cities visited did Your Highness enjoy the most?"

Just like he had rehearsed, Lucas thought to himself, mentally chanting the response, analyzing the way it would roll off his tongue and how it would echo throughout the venue.

 _Each in its own way_ ,  _Each in its own way_ ,  _Each in its own w-_

"Each, in its own way, was unforgettable," Lucas follows Eliott with his eyes. Eliott, who has stopped abruptly in the middle of walking down the aisle leading out of the large hall, "It would be difficult to..." Lucas trails off.

 _Turn around, turn around, turn around,_  he pleads internally.

Eliott lifts his head up, turning towards Lucas, gauging him curiously. 

And for Lucas, it was enough. 

"Paris," Lucas lets out softly, looking directly at Eliott, as if he was the only person in the whole room, and Eliott, who had turned around completely looked right back. Unashamedly. No reservations.

"Paris." he repeats, this time sturdier, more confident. 

"By all means," Lucas continues as Eliott's mouth curves upward, ever so slightly, "I will cherish my visit here in memory as long as I live." he finishes, eyes wet with unshed tears contrasting against the bright smile he hopes Eliott can see from where he stands. 

The room murmurs approvingly at the answer, the scrawl of pens on paper and cameras flashing echoing his statement. 

The older man mouths something Lucas can't quite comprehend, nodding in his direction, watery grin gracing his features and starts to walk out of the hall. Lucas continues to field questions from reporters as politely as possible, his stare drifting without fail to the back of Eliott's head until he vanishes from sight.

The finality of it all sinks in. He probably won't see Eliott again. And as unfair as it was in this minute, maybe in the next thousand, next million even, Lucas would eventually come to terms with it.

 _Goodbye,_ he thinks _,_  incessant questions and Eliott's footsteps fading into oblivion, _my summer miracle._

* * *

Later:

 

Bound by circumstance, Lucas and Eliott part in Paris and do not meet again. Lucas is the wake up call Eliott needed years too late that forces him to acknowledge the parts of his life that he had ignored for so long. Eliott comes into Lucas's life like a fleeting dream, the kind you woke up from wishing you could go back to sleep, and disappears just as fast as he manifests. 

They do not meet again, but the days and nights they spent together in Paris summer redefine the rest of their lives. 

And sometimes,

When Lucas finds himself feeling wistful for warm Parisian nights spent biking around the city and the crisp air engulfing him on Eliott's balcony just before the world around them woke up completely, he'll pay a visit to Eliott's website showcasing his latest work. He'll do so, with regrets that he had long learned to overcome replaced by gratefulness as he scrolls down the contents of the page. At the same time unbeknownst to Lucas, miles away from him, somewhere in a spacious penthouse along the Seine, there was a now world renowned photographer reading a magazine over croissants and cold coffee, stumbling across an interview with a newly appointed king whose picture accompanying the headline makes his heart skip a beat and the fingers on his cup grip slightly tighter before he turns the page. 

 

 

Then (one last time):

 

"Your Highness?"

"Yes?"

"This note was found in your hotel room. I thought you might want it before you get on your flight back."

"Oh. Thanks."

 

 

> _To Lucas:_
> 
> _Thank you, my match struck unexpectedly in the dark._
> 
> _E_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was planning to go in this direction from the beginning, just didn't think it would hurt as much as it did hahah.  
> (my rationalization is that there are plenty of Eliotts and Lucases together in other parallel universes)
> 
> edit due for when i wake up lol
> 
> what did Eliott say before he walked away at the end? i have my own hc but i'll leave it up to interpretation 
> 
> I'd love to know how you guys ended up reading this story! If you do comment, let me know 
> 
> p.s. i'm writing [one last chaptered au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18953569/chapters/45002437) before i bid goodbye to these two. i can promise a happy ending for this one :)
> 
> edit: i really recommend whoever hasnt watched roman holiday before to give it a shot! I think my narrative choices will make sense if you do because this au is modelled after that movie


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